StarCraft: Brain Storm
by Toasterman
Summary: With the Dominion gone, the Zerg destroyed and the Protoss fighting each other, the Korpulu Sector is in chaos. It is in this battleground of confusion and doubt that a group of unique individuals struggles to survive. Sequel to SC: Brain Damage.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Yeah, here's the sequel. Idea behind this whole thing is take Brain Damage, cut out all the stupid stuff like terrible comedy attempts, unfufilled plotlines, and streamline it into something bigger, better and more badass then ever before. So if you haven't read Brain Damage, don't feel obligated to start there. Trust me, you'll hate the first chapter and probably stop there, thus never reaching what's right below you here. And if you have read Brain Damage, congrats. You're gonna love this, as the fan favorites are back and better than ever. If you read please review. I, like all authors, love and adore feedback.**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 1: LNN Live**

Toji cleared his throat, readied his microphone, and looked up at the camera sitting on Houston's shoulder just in time for the green light. "Good morning, Korpulu Sector, Toji Suzuhara reporting live from Korhal IV. Things are a mess here, as you can see in the background. Ever since the war and crumbling of the Dominion three years ago, this planet has been in a constant state of turmoil. Today is no different.

"Even with the Swarm destroyed and the Protoss alliance shattered, war continues. Terran factions are scouring the surface of this world, engaging and slaughtering each other over whatever technology they can find. Stay tuned for constant war coverage as this situation develops. Until next time, this is Toji Suzuhara, LNN news. Back to you, Mike."

The camera's live feed dropped, Toji lowered his mic, and a Siege Tank shell landed thirty feet to his left, spraying a wave of super-heated plasma across the area. Toji jumped out of the way, but Houston wasn't as lucky. The blue energy washed over the cameraman, boiling his body beneath it till it vaporized. Toji started to move forward to save the camera, which had fallen to the ground in the commotion.

Suddenly, a massive armored hand gripped the back of Toji's duster and yanked him back.

"You stupid fuck!" a voice shouted in his ear, "Do you want to die? That tank's got us zeroed in by now. We need to get moving!"

Toji looked over his shoulder to see the CMC suited man gripping him. Major Goss, the man in charge of a mercenary team hired by LNN execs to watch Toji's ass during these war reports.

"Ayanami!" Jim shouted, firing a quick burst one-handed from his Impaler. The spikes hit a marine wearing yellow armor, blowing him apart in a spray of bright red bloody organs.

"Yeah?" the blue-haired medic replied, jogging up to Jim with her own Impaler cradled like a child.

"Get Suzuhara to the dropship!" Jim instructed, tossing Toji like a toy.

Ayanami caught and plopped Toji on her shoulder in one fluid motion, demonstrating that she was more than comfortable in her armor. "What are you going to do, Jim?" she asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

"That Crucio is pissing me off," Jim grumbled.

Ayanami took the hint and moved off to the dropship waiting three heavily destroyed blocks away. As she vaulted a ruined statue of Arcturus Mengsk and disappeared from sight, Jim turned to look in the direction of the Siege Tank. It was laying beyond a skyscraper that had crashed onto its side, creating a natural barrier to direct fire but still allowing the high-arcing plasma shells free reign over the immediate city.

Jim wasn't sure what faction the tank was from and more importantly, he didn't give a damn. It was going to erupt into flame as payment for the shit it had caused him.

"Nick!" Jim shouted over his radio.

There was a loud whoosh, followed by a clang and accompanying vibration of the pavement and Jim looked right to see the wry Reaper standing next to him, smoke belching from the recently used jumpjets on his back.

"We killing the tank?" Nick asked, pulling a D18 from his belt.

"Its like you know me," Jim replied and checked his rifle, "Jump the building. I'll move through it ground level."

"Got it," Nick said.

They both broke into motion at the same time, Jim striding forward on foot while Nick leapt into the air on twin columns of fire. Jim entered through a window and thundered down a corridor on what would have been a wall had the building still stood upright. A marine dropped down out a door above Jim, an old UED gattling cannon in his hands.

Jim activated the psi bayonet on his Impaler with the flick of a switch, lighting up the corridor with an eerie blue glow, and jammed it into the enemy marine. The bayonet sliced through armor, skin and bone without pause and emerged from the marine's back in a fountaining spray of vibrant red. Jim ripped his rifle free with a bit of effort and moved past the dying man.

He burst into daylight just in time to see Nick tackle a Firebat, obviously out of ammo. The Firebat struggled against its attacker, trying to get one of its napalm hoses in line with Nick's head. Nick landed six punches to the other soldier's helmet, shattering the visor and breaking the man's face. Behind the two, Jim could see the Crucio Siege Tank transforming back into its mobile set up.

"Nick move!"


	2. Chapter 2

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 2: Ghosts of the Past**

The Crucio's bombardment cannon retracted into its body as the twin main guns moved into position with Nick's back. The Reaper turned to look at the tank, cringing behind his facemask, prepared to meet his fate.

There was a deafening explosion and the steel side of the siege tank ripped open, shredded like tin foil. Secondary explosions echoed throughout the rest of the tank as its ammunition supply went up, blowing more holes in its body until all that was left was a smoldering pile of sharp steel and smoke. The tank's turret sagged down to the side, no longer secured to the hull, and fell off into the dirt, defeated.

Nick turned to Jim. "What was that?"

"Hell if I know," Jim replied, "I didn't do it. You sure you didn't sneak a charge in somewhere?"

"I didn't sneak shit in anywhere," Nick said.

Jim looked around, his Impaler held ready to fire. The only people he saw were dead, covered by bloodied power armor. Besides, even if they were alive, they wouldn't have blown up their own tank. He was about to call Ayanami and get the dropship in to pick them up when a voice called out to them.

"You named Goss!?" the voice asked, a mere echo on the wind throughout the embattled streets.

Jim exchanged a glance with Nick, who shrugged and readied a D18 charge. "Who wants to know!?" he called back.

"Son, there isn't a man alive who's said that without actually _being _the topic of conversation," the voice said, laughing a bit in the process, "No worries. I don't want to kill you. I'm coming out, so don't shoot me. And tell your buddy to watch where he throws that thing. I don't want _my _ass being blown up."

Nick looked sideways at Jim to check his friend's opinion. Jim nodded, and Nick returned the D18 to his belt. The way Jim figured, if this speaker did take out that siege tank then he could certainly handle two motionless targets from wherever he was posting. Taking another look around, Jim still couldn't see anyone.

That was until a brick fell off of the top of a rubble pile a few feet away. Jim and Nick whirled around; weapons ready, to see a black stealth-suited Ghost standing before them, C10 canister rifle held one-handed. His cowl was down, revealing a mane of fading black hair tinged, like his scruffy beard, with gray at the edges. A black patch covered his left eye, but the remaining right one was filled with the burning light of a pure soldier, sprinkled with the wisdom that came with experience.

"How do you know me," Jim asked, not lowering his gun.

"Heard about you a few years back, before the war. You did that little job on Tarsonis, right?" the Ghost asked.

"Yeah," Jim said, jerking his head toward Nick, "That was both of us."

The Ghost nodded. "Fine work. You're a damn good soldier, for a marine. So what the hell are you doing babysitting a camera crew?"

"Paying the rent until the next big alien menace rolls on through the sector," Nick muttered, completely dry on emotion.

"Good one," the Ghost said, stepping down from the rubble and extending his free hand toward Jim, "My name's Jefferies, Specialist Tom Jefferies. Confederate Ghost, formerly that is."

Jim lowered his Impaler and shook Jefferies' hand, careful not to pulverize the limb with his suit's strength.

"Major Jim Goss, Liberty Security Services," Jim said, "This is my number two man, Sergeant Nick McCabe."

"Huh, I didn't hear anything about you," Jefferies said, shaking Nick's hand.

"Yeah, well, most of the official reporters on Tarsonis were to busy filming themselves being eaten to interview me," the Reaper shot back with a shrug.

Jim cleared his throat. "What'd you hit the tank with?"

Jefferies hefted his C10, showing the improvised launcher attachment at its end. "Adapted to fire Gemini missiles when needed, or more accurately, when I can find them," he said.

"Nice," Nick commented.

"We owe you one," Jim said, "What'll it be?"

"How about a job?" Jefferies asked.

Jim shook his head. "Most I can guarantee is a ride off this rock. Mike handles the paychecks, so who's hired and fired is up to him," he explained, "But I personally wouldn't have a problem working with a Ghost again."

"I'll take the ride, no problem," Jefferies said.

Jim nodded and turned away from the other two men to make a radio call. "Ayanami? Ayanami we are ready for pick up, over," he said.

"Roger that, inbound now," the medic replied, then added, "And Jim? Toji's getting pissed over this camera thing."

Off in the distance, Jim heard an auto-cannon boom six times, followed by the rat-tat-tat of Impaler fire. The battle was getting closer, he realized.

"Tell him to blow it out his ass," he told Ayanami, "Just get us the hell off this planet."

"Wilco," she replied, "Ayanami out."


	3. Chapter 3

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 3: _The Gunner's Dream_**

Jim's suit folded down around him, hissing and venting steam throughout the process, until it was merely a hunched form at his feet. He stepped out of it, sending it automatically into a security lockdown. The next time it would legitimately activate would be when he stepped into it and it registered his DNA scan as accurate.

Now just in his under armor, Jim hefted his Impaler with great difficulty up onto a rack next to his armor stall. With the psi bayonet, the rifle weighed a full twenty seven pounds heavier then it normally would, and that wasn't even with the cables and cords needed to keep the melee weapon running at full power off the suit's internal power supply.

Satisfied that the heavy weapon wouldn't be jostled during warp travel, Jim exited the armory and into the main spinal corridor of _The Gunner's Dream_. Described upon first sight by Nick McCabe as 'a warp accessible potato', the _Dream_ was essentially a surface-to-orbit cargo shuttle modified to take a field reporter halfway across the universe as fast as possible without falling apart. It wasn't a Battlecruiser, but it was Jim, Nick and Ayanami's home along with Toji and Houston.

Well, since what had gone down on the surface, only Toji was left out of that latter pair.

"Damn, I can't tell you how long it's been since I've had a good shower like that one!" Jefferies exclaimed as he exited the bathroom in front of Jim and padded out into the hallway with a towel around his neck and nothing below the waist besides briefs.

"Yeah, well I can't tell _you _how long it's been since we filled up the tank. So try not to use so much fucking water," Jim shot back, pushing past the Ghost in the direction of the bridge at the nose of the ship.

"My apologies, Major," Jefferies said, following Jim, "I realize how much of a commodity that old H2O can be."

"Speaking of old," Jim said, "How old are you?"

"Fifty-six, been soldiering since before you were born. And I can still pull off a headshot beyond the better half of a mile, that's for damn sure," the gray-haired Ghost stated.

"Just wondering," Jim said, "I didn't question your abilities."

"Not out loud," Jefferies corrected.

Jim sighed. He had almost forgotten the downside of working with a Ghost: They always knew what you were thinking. He'd have to practice keeping his thoughts below the surface traffic that they could read easily.

"Well, you can't blame me," Jim said, "It's my job as the guy in charge to constantly evaluate the men under my command."

Jefferies nodded, ducking beneath a coolant pipe that in a design flaw ran directly through the corridor at only five feet above the deck. "I understand, Major. Its just I've never really factored my age into a performance report before. Usually it's my eye that attracts the most attention from new commanders."

Jim didn't respond as the door to the bridge slid open before him. The bridge wasn't nearly as large at it should have been, and it seemed to Jim that it never had enough room no matter what they removed. And they had removed a _lot_.

There was no main screen. They didn't have room for one, so instead there was a flat screen on a pivot handle that rotated around the bridge on voice command. Currently, Toji was standing across the bridge from Jim, talking to the screen. It was turned away from Jim, so he couldn't make out whom the reporter was talking to, but he could definitely make out what Toji was talking about.

"I seem to remember being in complete control of where this ship goes, and more importantly, where _I _go," Toji said, arms crossed defiantly across his chest, "He pulled me off the fucking site, Mike."

Jim rolled his eyes and stepped off to one side, putting his hand on the headrest of the helmsman seat. "What's up Ian?" he asked the ship's pilot.

"Same old shit," Ian replied, adjusting his aviator goggles to sit on top of his head, "We're holding a steady orbit, but I'd honestly rather just get the hell out of here before some nut job splashes us across space with a Yamato shot."

Jim opened his mouth to respond when he felt something smack him in the back of the head. Whipping around, he saw that the pivot screen had come around and hit him and with it the face of Michael Liberty. Mike was the owner, operator and head anchor of the Liberty News Network. He was also the man in charge of Liberty Security Services, making him Jim's boss.

"Jim, what happened?" he asked, face in a scowl.

"The cameraman was melted by a bombardment shell and your genius reporter here tried to run in the boiling pond of pissed-off to get the damn camera. I kept him from getting his ass fried just as bad as Houston did," Jim told Mike, rubbing the back of his head as he spoke, "The area was too hot anyway."

"Doesn't matter, Jim. You're job is to keep him safe where he's at, not move him out of the way," Mike said.

"Look, Liberty, if I hadn't got him out of there when I did it'd be Toji Suzuhara reporting from the After Life by tonight's report. So get the hell off my back, alright?" Jim said.

Mike glared at Jim for a full thirty seconds before saying anything. Finally, he responded. "Okay, fine. But don't do it again. Who's that behind you?"

"That's Ian," Jim said without turning around, "Our helmsman."

"No," Mike said, "Behind him."

Jim turned around to see Jefferies leaning against a bulkhead near Ian's chair, still as a statue.

"That's Specialist Jefferies. We picked him up on the surface as a favor," Jim said, "See, he kind of saved our asses."

"Uh, huh," Mike muttered, then looked past Jim to the veteran Ghost, "Hey, Jefferies, you want a job?"

Jefferies grinned. "I'd love one."


	4. Chapter 4

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 4: Break on Through**

Jefferies frowned in disgust as he lifted the camera up onto his shoulder, flicking on the feed as he did so. When Liberty had offered him a job, he had somehow conveniently left out the fact that it would be taking the place of Houston the cameraman. Now as he stood in the armory of _The Gunner's Dream_ filming Toji do a quick wrap up piece on the Korhal Wars before they jumped into warp space, Jefferies suddenly regretted taking the position.

"So the battles rage on, neglected by the rest of the Sector, as what happens here may very well decide the future of our galaxy," Toji was droning on.

The pay was good, but seriously, a cameraman? It didn't seem like an accurate use of his talents as a Ghost. As Jefferies stood there, he couldn't help but think of how easy he could snap the reporter's neck if he wanted to.

"But for this reporter, ladies and gentlemen, the fight is over. Next we are headed out into space, to bring you the news, one word at a time. For LNN news, I'm Toji Suzuhara. Back to you, Mike."

Jefferies cut the feed and lowered the camera to his side. "That good enough? Or do you want a sixtieth take?" he asked.

"Nah, I think that one worked," Toji replied.

Jefferies didn't see what made it work, as it was the same damn thing the kid had said each of the other fifty-eight times they'd tried the fucking closing. But now that it was over, they'd be jumping out to another assignment. Hopefully, Jefferies thought, it would be more exciting than sitting in the armory. If it wasn't, he just might kill himself.

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Nick swung his robotic left leg down off the table, testing it with his weight. Once satisfied that it was calibrated properly again, he turned to Ayanami. "Thanks," he said.

"Nah, don't mention it," the medic replied, tucking away her tools into a bag as she talked, "The A2's always were a bit touchy on the servos. You really ought to look into upgrading."

Nick glanced at her jet-black Dark Templar designed right forearm with an expression of jealousy. She could feel everything perfectly with it: hot, cold, textures. Aside from that, it was as tough as Neo-steel but still deft enough to pick up a glass of water without shattering it. And it never hiccuped, something Nick's leg did all too often.

"Yeah, I'll ask the next prosthetic scientist we run into to whip me up something better," he smart-assed and exited the cafeteria.

Jim smacked into him immediately, too engrossed in his clipboard to watch where he was going. They both slid sideways to clear each other, bracing against opposite bulkheads and righting themselves easily.

"This ship's to damn small," Nick muttered unenthusiastically.

"You can say that again," Jim replied, equally bored.

"Where're we heading?" Nick asked.

Jim looked up from his clipboard. "Harmony Platform," he answered, "Out in the Rakkia system. It's a hospital platform for biological warfare victims, run by independents."

"So what, Suzuhara's doing a human interest piece?" Nick asked.

"I guess," Jim said, continuing on his way to the bridge, "All we've got to do is watch his ass, make sure he doesn't get killed."

The bridge door opened and Jim stepped in. He trotted over to Ian's console, ducking under a blocky switchboard protruding from the ceiling along the way.

"We ready for jump?" he asked the helmsman.

Ian nodded, then spoke around his cigarette. "Essentially, yes. Honestly I could use some more time for jump calculations, but if you're comfortable with trusting the navigation computer fully-"

"I am," Jim cut him off.

Ian sighed. "Okay then. Engaging warp jump," he announced over the intercom, then muttered, "And pray we don't come out in the middle of a super nova."

"Has that ever happened before?" Jim asked.

"There's always a first time, mate," Ian shot back in an instant.

"Touche," Jim replied.

Ian Matthews was renowned for double, sometimes even triple checking warp jump calculations by hand, as evidenced by the whole notebooks full of scribbled figures next to his seat. Even with his talent for mathematical problem solving, it still typically set them back a full three hours. Jim was normally okay with waiting, if only to keep the helmsman from losing his marbles. But the less they hung out in Korhal IV's orbit, the better.

The space in front of _Dream _stretched, ripped open into a hole, and sucked the ship inside. Behind them, the hole snapped shut, and the screen went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 5: Preparations**

"A friend of mine designed that," Jim said, gesturing to the psi bayonet fixture on his Impaler, "Said that the measure of a warrior laid solely in their close-quarters abilities."

"Your friend may have had a point there," Jefferies conceded.

The two men were sitting on the floor of the armory, backs against a bulkhead, surveying the weapons and armored suits sitting across the room from them. About halfway back along the corridor of _The Gunner's Dream_ was where the armory was situated. There wasn't really an official door with 'armory' stenciled above it, as the hallway simply turned into an armory for a few feet and then went back to being a hallway until it turned into the hanger and subsequent engine room.

"I like to think he did," Jim said.

With nothing to do during the warp jump to Harmony Platform, Jim and Jefferies had just sort of met up in the armory. Given the circumstances, Jim figured it was as good a time as any to lay out what he expected out of the newest addition to the crew.

"Look, I know that Liberty said you're the camera man, but you're a Ghost. I don't think Mike quite gets what that means. So yes, you will run the camera, but you'll also have your rifle on hand. In case shit goes south, and it has been known to do that from time to time, then I want you capable of fighting," Jim explained, "You read me?"

Jefferies nodded. "Yeah, sure. You said you'd worked with Ghosts before. Who? I might have known them."

"Why?" Jim snapped, careful to not let too many thoughts creep up into the readable layer of his mind.

"Never mind," Jefferies said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Jim would have pressed deeper, but the intercom cut him off.

"Exiting warp now," Ian's voice rang out through the ship.

Jim stood up and strode to his armor. As it sealed up around him, he looked across the armory to Jefferies, who was just getting up, carefully popping his neck.

"We'll talk more later," Jim promised, grabbing his modified Impaler off the rack next to him and attaching energy hoses from his suit to its bayonet in one practiced motion.

Jefferies yanked his C10 out of a latched rack and jacked the slide, putting a 25mm canister into the chamber with a snap. "You bet," he said with a knowing look in his remaining eye.

Somehow, Jim got the feeling that the grizzled old war-horse knew more about something then he let on. It was only a matter of time before that information saw the light of day. But first, they had a reporter to cover.

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Ian's desk screen was filled with the yellowish color of Rakkia II, a gas planet orbiting a supernova in its late sixteen billions. In front of the planet was a small smudge that was growing steadily larger. That smudge was Harmony Platform, the pointlessly menial destination that Ian had to dock with. In light of it being this far away from any other Terran-held systems, Ian was wondering if its traffic manager would even be mentally stable.

With a sigh of contempt, Ian activated his ship-to-ship communications arrays and positioned the mic in front of his mouth. "_The Gunner's Dream_ to Harmony Platform. Do you read, Harmony?" he said.

"We copy, _Dream_," replied the soothing voice of an Adjutant. Maybe they weren't as behind as Ian had originally thought.

"Requesting permission to dock, over," Ian said, striking a cigarette as he talked.

As the Adjutant rambled on, verifying activation codes, Ayanami entered the bridge. "Those things'll kill you," she said, indicating the cigarette Ian held between two of his fingers.

"Fuck off," the helmsman replied, talking around his smoke.

"Come again, _Gunner's Dream_?" the Adjutant asked.

"Uh, nothing Harmony," he said, "Just getting over a cold's all. Are we clear to land yet?"

"Roger that, you are cleared for docking procedures on clamp zero-seven. Have a nice day."

Ian shut the channel off, red in the face with embarrassment. Ayanami struggled to keep from laughing, but was failing miserably.

"Whatever," Ian said, feigning disinterest. He turned and tapped in a few commands, beginning the docking process.

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Toji looked in the mirror, making sure that he had his duster on just right and tried unsuccessfully for the ten thousandth time to convince himself that he liked the look of it. He hated it. But Liberty had worn one during his time in the field, so it seemed to almost be the unofficial uniform of every field reporter on LNN's payroll.

At least Toji had the stones to forgo the fedora that most other reporters jumped for, so he wasn't a complete Michael Liberty clone like all the rest. He tried to have his own style, but the tried-and-true methods of reporting the news were ingrained into his mind as surely as if they'd been seared on like a brand.

Of course, now they had him reporting on hospitals. Big fucking whoop there. War was where it was at: glory, death, sacrifice, heroism, not exactly the things biological warfare hospitals were known for. No viewer wanted to see the downside effects of battle, just the immediate, gory ones. And the only person Toji could think to blame for all this was-

Knock, knock, knock. "You ready yet?" Jim asked, pounding on the door to Toji's cabin, "The dying patients aren't getting any better."

"Speak of the fucking devil," Toji muttered, then raised his voice so that Jim could hear him, "I'm coming out in a second!"

He took one last look in the mirror, tried his cheesy smile on for looks, and headed out to make soon-to-be-forgotten history.


	6. Chapter 6

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 6: Pigs on the Wing**

Air rushed into the airlock, accompanied by a hissing whine that made Toji cringe. Jim, behind his insulated, sound-filtered helmet, observed the reporter's suffering without any ear protection. Jefferies, however, didn't seem to be affected by it and watched Toji with an expression somewhat similar to Jim's own: distaste with a side of patheticism.

Nick and Ayanami stood alongside Toji, their weapons ready to be snapped into firing positions at the first sign of trouble. No matter what happened, the man would not be allowed to die. If he did, they wouldn't get paid.

The airlock door rolled aside in time with its platform-bound counterpart to reveal the bustling station that was Harmony. The landing party stepped out onto the steel deck of the platform and breathed the air. Jim looked up to see the view dominated by a giant yellow gaseous sphere, Rakkia II, and beyond that was the vast blackness of space, sprinkled with the flickering light of far off stars.

There was no roof to Harmony Platform, just an imaginary line where the air ended and vacuum began. Jim never got used to virtual 'oxygen bubble' that space platforms were generally equipped with. He guessed it was something of a combination between not understanding the science behind it and having black space above him.

Snapping his view back to his surroundings to clear the vertigo, Jim spotted Toji shaking hands with a spectacled doctor. Next to the doctor, Jim could see three CMC armored men. The one in the center of the three, though physically no different than the other two, had an air of authority about him. Jim assumed he was the leader of the trio.

"Doctor Harris," Toji said, "I'm Toji Suzuhara, LNN news."

Harris didn't even smile. "No shit. Look buddy, I know who you fucking are. Thanks for coming, but if you're looking for a real heart-warming human interest story about good men helping the less-fortunate, then you've come to the wrong God damn place."

Toji fumbled with his mic to get it into place before Harris continued.

"Are you familiar with the concept of Terrazine gas, Suzuhara?" Harris asked.

Jim smiled behind his visor. Finally, an interviewee who could put the little bastard through his paces.

"Uh, yes, yes I am," Toji managed.

"Yeah, you're probably familiar with its more humane use as a fuel additive, making cars go faster and shit like that," Harris said, "Well, the fuckers over at the Kill More Combine have been so kind as to weaponize the shit. Pack it into missile tips and hit colonies with it, real 'scorched-earth' tactics. Right now we're filled to the fucking brim with infected refugees from Nora III's invasion and we've run out of treatment materials. We've started to simply try and cease the spread of the chemical, but are equipment is starting to break. Follow me."

Harris started off across the platform toward a gray building jutting out of the otherwise uniformly flat platform like a large, pancake growth. Toji followed him, immediately dragging Jim, Nick, Ayanami and Jefferies along for the ride. Jim looked over his shoulder to see that the three CMC troops were following them as well, Impalers in hand.

"Nick," Jim said over the close-range radio.

"Fuckers behind us?" the Reaper replied.

"Yeah," Jim said, "They pull anything, plant a charge on the big one's visor. Ayanami and I can handle the other two. Right?"

"Yup," Ayanami said, proving that she was on the network, "I'll hit the right one if you'll hit the left."

"Can do," Jim replied, "Now let's act natural, or, as natural as you can act in a contagious biological warfare hospital."

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Ian watched his display screens in absolute boredom. The only sounds in the bridge around him were the systematic beeps of instruments, the rhythmic thrumming of the ventilation system and a pulsating drone from the food hydrator next to his seat. The hydrator beeped twice, signaling the end of a cooking cycle.

Ian opened the hydrator and retrieved his bowl of cooked noodles. As he pulled out a spoon and started to dig into the stringy snack, his console lit up like a Christmas tree. He set his food aside and took a look at what was being conveyed to him by the ship's sensors. A fleet of sixteen Behemoth-class Battlecruisers had just exited warp space near the system's edge. At their current range, Ian couldn't tell what faction they were with, but he could read that they weren't coming any closer.

Still, though, he decided to notify Jim.


	7. Chapter 7

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 7: Apples and Oranges**

Harris swiped an identification card through a slit alongside a heavy steel door within the hospital building. A light above the door turned green and a seal around the door popped, allowing it to swing open. Immediately Jim heard a sound like a wet washrag being beat against a brick wall. He tried to identify where the sound had come from and was rewarded with the sight of a man vomiting up his lungs in bloody chunks.

"Shit," Harris muttered, "Preliminary brachial ejection. Nurse! Nurse! Get this man on a sedative!"

"We're out, sir!" a nearby nurse replied, already dealing with a man in the midst of a seizure.

Jim felt something grab his shoulder and spun around to see Ayanami looking at him, her visor flipped up to show her face. One look at her expression told Jim exactly what she was about to ask him.

"Do it," he ordered, answering before the question was asked.

Ayanami landed next to the puking man, an injector already in her free hand. She discarded her Impaler, letting it clatter to the ground near her right leg.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harris asked, though not really in any position to stop the woman while she remained encased in half-ton power armor.

"You wanted a sedative," Ayanami said, searching for a suitable vein, "I've got one."

Harris didn't hesitate any longer. He dove down next to the blue-haired medic and indicated a large artery running along the man's arm. "Hit him there," the doctor instructed.

"Thanks," Ayanami replied. She slammed the injector into place, squeezed the trigger and in the process pumped the dying man full of enough juice to sedate a raging Ultralisk.

Unfortunately, it didn't work. The man degraded into convulsions, thrashing about wildly while still spewing his internal organs out of his mouth. Due to the rapid chattering of his teeth, though, his parts were coming up pulverized and squirting blood. His eyes bulged and he heaved, a long, dry heave, finally ending in the bloody ejection of a long, strung out heart.

The man's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed dead in a pool of his own blood.

Ayanami didn't speak, just simply looked at the dead man for a full minute before finally saying something. "What just happened?" she muttered to Doctor Harris.

"That's the bitch of this Terrazine shit. Causes all sorts of unpredictable reactions to medications. No rhyme or reason to any of it, so we just keep giving them sedatives at this point. It either puts them into sleep so they go peacefully, or what just happened to this guy happens. Either way, they're put out of their misery," Harris explained.

The doctor stood up, producing a pack of cigarettes from his white coat. As he struck a match and moved it to intercept the tip of a nicotine stick now hanging from his lips, he turned to Toji.

"Well Mr. Suzuhara," he said, "Do you see a story here or what?"

Toji stared blankly at Harris for a moment, then he became conscious of the camera pointed in his direction. "Yes," he said, then turned to look at Jefferies' camera.

As Toji began his report, Jim looked around the building. The standard rooms were filled to the brim, some men stacked two to a bed. Ayanami trotted up beside him and looked at a clipboard stuck to a doorframe.

"Stage two infection," she read, then poked her head in the room.

When she came back out, Jim saw a look of disgust on her face that he had never seen before on a medic. Whatever was in there had to be more than bad.

"They're grouping them according to symptoms," she muttered, "That way they can control the infection's progression more easily."

"Is it working?" Jim asked her.

"My experience with Terrazine infection amounts to what I've seen in the past five minutes, but I am familiar with disease prevention. So, no, its not working," she said, "I'd say everyone here can be grouped under the label 'walking dead'."

Jim nodded. The corridors were covered by a mixture of blood, puke and piss, and due to the lack of available beds, patients were sitting in the filth, waiting for help from nurses who either weren't there or were to busy elsewhere to help. The entire place smelled like slow death.

"How do you know about disease prevention?" Jim asked Ayanami, trying to keep his mind off the situation around him.

"My dad," Ayanami said, "He ran a center on-"

A burst of static splashed over the COM line, then dispersed into Ian's voice. "Hey, Jim? Jim do you copy?" he asked.

"Yeah, Ian, what is it?" Jim replied.

"I thought you should know that a task force of Battlecruisers just entered the system. Not sure their affiliation yet, but our hosts know something's up. They're scrambling a rag-tag fighter defense," Ian reported, "Something's going down, man. I vote we get the fuck out."

"Thanks Ian, keep us posted," Jim said, then switched to squad-only, "Everybody hear that?"

They all replied with something akin to an affirmative. Jim was about to continue when he heard an Impaler fire from behind him in the lobby. He whirled around to see patients screaming and running in terror, fresh blood splashed across white tile and the three armored security guards spraying anything that moved.


	8. Chapter 8

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 8: Random Precision**

Jim saw one of the security guards turn toward he and Ayanami's position, Impaler ready to fire. At once, he pushed Ayanami out of the way and dove the opposite direction himself, hitting the ground just as a fusillade of spikes ripped through the air where he had just stood a split second before. He rolled onto his stomach and aimed at the offending security guard.

Jim squeezed the trigger, sending a volley of his own into his target's chest. The shots shredded steel, flesh and bone with ease, blowing a spray of blood out of the man's body as he was tossed backward onto a rolling cart. Needless to say, the heavy CMC armor shattered the comparatively weak aluminum cart. The first dead security guard slammed into the tile, cracking the uniform one-by-one squares.

The remaining two security guards jumped into cover behind the hospital's entrance counter, out of sight and protected from any gunfire. Slowly, Jim and Ayanami stood up and moved toward the lobby, still crouched out of sight in case the guards decided to pop up and have another go at it.

"Okay," Jim shouted, "Who's not dead?"

Looking around, he saw a stretcher move and Jefferies appeared, laying prone next to a bleeding Toji Suzuhara. Jim spotted an 8mm spike sticking out of the reporter's gut to match another jutting from his right kneecap. Also of note was the fact that Jefferies held his C10 in both hands, having transferred the camera to Toji.

Good, the old Ghost was taking up his secondary job without needing to be told. Toji, amazingly, was actually filming the carnage around him despite the pain.

"We're alright," Jefferies said, giving Jim a casual salute.

"Same over here," Nick said, waving to Jim from where he stood behind a bulky square pillar, both Scythe pistols out of their holsters.

"Where's Harris?" Jim asked.

Jefferies shook his head. "Beats me," he said, "Last thing I saw, he was standing there, helping a nurse with a patient. Then the spikes started flying. I haven't seen him since."

In fact, a lot of things about the lobby had spikes sticking out of them. Patients were lying about, limbs severed from shrapnel. Screams could be heard from the men and women not fortunate enough to have died from their wounds. Jim spotted the nurse from earlier sprawled across a table, and a chair, and the floor, and the ceiling. It reminded him just how powerful one of these rifled could be against an unprotected human.

"Okay," Jim said, eyeing a low ceiling above the place where the two security guards were hiding, "Nick? Care to drop the sky on these assholes?"

The Reaper didn't even respond in words, simply producing a D18 charge from his belt and hurling it at the concrete slab above the target. The charge latched onto a critical stress juncture, beeped twice, and exploded. Twin gasps of surprise were heard from the security guards as they realized what was happening, then the slab hit them.

Blood squirted out from under the concrete, then everything was still again.

Nick came out from behind his pillar, Jim and Ayanami from their hallway, and Jefferies stood up from the ground, assisting Toji up in the process. Reloading, Jim looked around again for Harris. Finally, he spotted the doctor standing up from under a pile of bodies, his cigarette still in his mouth.

"What the fuck just happened?" he asked.

"I was hoping you could shed some light on it," Jim said, moving his Impaler in the doctor's direction, "After all, they were _your _security guards."

"I haven't the faintest idea. Hoskins and his two men just arrived last week. We hired them in case pirates came knocking," Harris explained.

"They were mercenaries?" Toji asked.

Harris looked at Toji with pure contempt in his eyes. "No, son, they were fucking janitors. Of course they were mercenaries!"

"Seems as though they didn't like having your business," Jim said, "That or someone paid them more money to kill than to protect you people."

"But who paid them? Who would want to stop our operation?" Harris asked.

The station suddenly rocked under their feet, throwing them off balance. Jim stumbled backward and steadied himself against a table.

"Ian!" he shouted over the radio, "Ian, what the hell is going on out there!?"

"Those Battlecruisers have moved in, sir! They've started firing!" Ian replied, "They're registered out of Moria, sir!"

Jim spat on the tile, his saliva mixing with the blood. "Dr. Harris, I have reason now to believe that it was indeed the Combine that paid your help to kill you."

"Why?" Harris asked.

"Because they're attacking," Jim said.

Harris sighed. "Okay, I've got to start evacuating the patients. You all should get out of here. This is no place for the press."

"Everyplace is a place for the press," Toji countered poetically.

Jefferies rammed the butt of his C10 into the base of Toji's skull, knocking the reporter unconscious before he hit the ground.

"Good work, Jefferies," Jim said, "Ayanami, help Harris with the evacuation process. We'll get Toji onto the ship and hold off the Combine as long as possible. Harris, what do you have to hit Battlecruisers with?"


	9. Chapter 9

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 9: Water Cooler Moment**

"I love these things," Nick said over the communications link, "Yet I so rarely ever get the opportunity to pilot one."

"Yeah," Jim replied, just getting his headset on.

He pressed forward on the footpad that dominated the floor of his cockpit and his Goliath bounded forward, breaking through the flimsy machine bay door and stepping out onto the main platform. Around his walker, Combine Vikings darted about in dogfights with a rag-tag assortment of platform defense aircraft. Off in the distance, far beyond the platform's atmosphere, Jim could see the Kel-Morian Battlecruisers, their laser arrays brimming with red energy.

Nick's Goliath lumbered up alongside Jim's, its 30mm autocannons loaded and ready. Jim scanned the nearby area and spotted Ayanami and Harris escorting a line of patients across the deck of the platform, bound for an aging medical ship. The doctor helped a woman along with his left arm, holding an AGR civilian assault rifle in the other.

"There they are," Nick said, "What do we do?"

"Cover them," Jim answered.

As if to punctuate the order, a Viking landed in front of them, quickly followed by two of its buddies. Gattling guns unfolded from each of the teal transformers, loading themselves in the process. Jim swung his Goliath's upper body around to face the much newer walkers.

"Nick, focus on the air targets. I'll handle the Vikings," Jim said.

"Roger that," Nick replied, locking on to an incoming Combine dropship in the process, "Call if you need something."

Jim thundered toward the Vikings on a diagonal path, firing with his smoothbore autocannons as he went. A plethora of explosive rounds peppered the lead Viking, no doubt pissing off the pilot more then anything. It charged at Jim, spinning its gattling guns up to speed. Jim jerked the control yokes around, reversing his course hard enough to make the balance servos groan from the strain.

The Viking fired, spraying the area where Jim had just been with bullets. It began to chase after Jim's Goliath with a stream of lead, but was knocked off balance as its target rammed it headfirst. The Viking tipped over, landing on its back as Jim did his best to steady his wobbling machine above it. His right 'leg' was still in the air, so he dropped it down.

Right on the Viking's cockpit.

Jim pulled his foot free, now coated in blood and machine oil, and turned to the other two Vikings. One was moving toward the evacuees, ignoring Jim as a threat completely, while the other came at him with a vengeance. Jim, seeing no other option, ran right at it. The two machines clashed, autocannon-to-gattling, cockpit-to-cockpit.

Jim grunted from the force he was putting on the control yokes, pressing forward against the other mech, now simply using the machine as an extension of his body. His autocannons were lodged under the 'arms' of the Viking, just as his opponent's gattlings were locked to him. Neither machine could shoot the other one, and that other Viking was still moving toward the evacuees.

Suddenly, an idea hit Jim in the head like a sack of bricks. He yanked the yokes to one side, letting pressure off the forward movement and putting all his energy into moving sideways. However, the Viking he was wrestling kept up the forward movement, thus spinning the pair and bringing Jim's guns right in line with the other Viking.

He hit the firing switch and watched as a stream of bullets slammed into the Viking's side, ripping it off balance and punching through the fuel tank. The high-octane space fighter fuel ignited, blowing the walker/flyer apart in a glorious, shrapnel-filled explosion that peppered the surrounding area with burning hot chunks of teal steel.

The Viking pressed into Jim was still spinning them around. Jim yanked his machine out of the lock and onto an even footing. Without a partner to sustain the spinning, the Viking stumbled and leaned to one side. Before it could fall, however, Jim riddled it full of 30mm holes. The impacts righted it, holding it in place while Jim targeted it with a Hellfire missile.

The rocket streaked across the space between the two walkers, collided with the Viking, and blew it in half. On their own, the Viking's legs took two steps forward and fell, clanging to the steel deck with a resounding bang.

"You know what, Nick?" Jim said, "I've got to agree with you: I too love these things. Nick?"

Jim turned his walker around to see Nick's Goliath looking out across the platform at a wave of screaming Kel-Morian marines running directly at them.

"Shit," Jim muttered, "Open fire!"


	10. Chapter 10

**StarCraft: Brain Damage**

**Chapter 10: Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk**

Moria was a heavily populated planet, probably the most populated planet in the sector. It had gotten to the point where cities, having been built up as far as possible, were being built underground to house the amounts of people that the planet was flooded with. This posed a problem for the Kel-Morian Combine, the corporation-government of Moria.

What were they to do with this many people? Mining was done with little human interaction; most of it being handled by machines anyway. Factories didn't require many people either, again, because of machines. So the Combine initiated a draft, culling civilians into a propaganda-laden military death machine that produced brainwashed, heavily patriotic soldiers ready to die willingly for their government.

This caused another problem, which was what were they to do with all the transport ships full of troops?

To the CEOs of the Kel-Morian Combine the answer was blatantly obvious: war. War on piracy.

War on terror. War on freethinking society. War on the Protoss.

And, currently, war on a small space platform full of refugees from a war on Nora III. Of course, two Goliaths were causing a bit of trouble actually getting _to_ the refugees in question, as they were chewing up all the Morian marines attempting to accomplish the mission. Not that the CEOs would care, there was plenty of men left to replace those lost. That was the great thing about men: they were an infinitely renewable resource. Steel for replacing that CMC armor, however…

"Don't let up!" Jim shouted over the COM link, "Ayanami! What's the status of the evacuation!?"

30mm shells blasted into the Morian human wave, blowing men into pieces with ease. It frankly disturbed Jim how the next man in line took his dead buddy's place and continued the charge, unafraid of the imminent death awaiting him. One glance at his ammo counter, however, informed Jim that the remaining time imminent death would be available was dwindling.

"We're almost there!" Ayanami replied, "Engine's running! Just three more minutes!"

"You've got two!" Jim shouted, "Nick, ammo count!"

"Not enough!" the Reaper-turned-Goliath pilot replied, launching a Hellfire into the enemy formation.

The missile exploded, throwing troops into the air and creating a short-lived gap in the line. Faster than the missile had traversed through the air, the gap was filled with more men.

"Hey, Jim? These Battlecruisers are looking mighty close over here…" Ian put in from the _Dream_ where it was docked on the other side of the platform from the advancing Combine.

"Shut the fuck up, kid!" Jim shouted, "The only thing between these people and them is us! So I don't want to hear it! All you gotta do is plot us a course through warp to some random place in deep space, alright?"

There was a pause on the line. "Yeah, I'm on it," Ian replied.

"Jefferies, you get Toji on the ship?" Jim asked.

"Thought you'd never ask," the Ghost replied, the sound of shooting filling the background, "I've had him on for ten minutes. Sleeping like a nasty little baby in that room of his."

"What the hell are you doing?" Nick asked.

"Just picking off some fuckers trying to move around the hospital to get at us. No worries though. They haven't found my position yet," Jefferies replied.

Jim targeted and blasted a Morian Marauder apart at the waist with a four-shot burst from one of his autocannons. He moved it to the right a bit and clicked the firing switch.

Nothing happened.

"Out of ammo!" Jim shouted, pulling his Goliath away from the front, "Nick?"

"I can hold them for a few more seconds!" he shouted, "But Ayanami could do me a big fucking favor by hurrying up!"

"Sorry assholes, but its kind of hard to make them run faster when their God damn legs are gonna fall off!" Ayanami retorted in all seriousness.

"Cut the shit!" Jim interjected, "How much longer?!"

Ayanami was silent a second. "Done. Patients aboard, ready to roll out, Doc!"

"Good timing. I just ran out," Nick muttered, moving his Goliath up toward the evacuation ship, "Hop on my leg Ayanami."

"No, they need my help on this ship," she said, "I'll catch up to you all later, Jim."

"You sure?" Jim asked.

Down below his Goliath, Jim saw her nod through the visor of her helmet. "Yeah, I've got to. I'm the only combat-capable medic around," Ayanami said, "I'll be in touch. Trust me."

"Okay," Jim said, not having any more time to argue the matter, "Get to the _Dream_, Nick!"

As the two Goliaths lumbered away at a full trot, Ayanami sprayed a clip at the onrushing Morian soldiers and ducked through the side entrance to the medical ship. She closed the door behind her and shouted up the corridor to Harris. "Door's shut! Let's blow this fucking joint!"

"I hear that!" Harris replied, "Everyone: hold on to your asses!"

The docking clamps blew away from the ship and it moved free, rocketing across the platform and slipping out of the oxygen bubble with ease. It tore through space, ripped open a warp hole and vanished through it, heading out on a random course into the stars.

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Jim jumped free of his Goliath, letting the walker collapse face-first behind him with a wham. He hit the ground just as his armor finished folding up around him. Nick slammed into ground next to Jim, just finishing putting his helmet into place himself. _The Gunner's Dream_ sat in front of them, its door open at the top of an inviting ramp, and standing on it, Jefferies aimed his C10 at some far-off target. The two newly arrived troopers clambered up the ramp, Nick slipping inside to help Ian with the remaining pre-flight checks.

Jim stopped next to Jefferies and put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "We gotta go!" he shouted above the screaming Kel-Morians approaching the ship.

"Yeah," Jefferies replied, fired one shot from his rifle, and ducked inside.

Jim tracked the shot and saw a pair of single-file marines explode into blood as one. He took a few pot shots and headed inside, not looking to see if he'd hit anything. As soon as the door was shut, Ian gunned the throttle, bringing the ship around on a vector out-system.

A warp hole opened up in front of the ship, sucking it in. Just before it got through, however, a Yamato shot slammed into the _Dream_'s stern, spinning it around in space hard enough to shudder the whole frame and start fires all throughout the vessel. As a result from this, it had to enter the matter-bending warp hole sideways.

The _Dream_ entered the whole and it slammed shut behind them, leaving the overrun platform to the Combine.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: I've decided that this series will be updated five chapters at a time, which seems like a nice little amount. Digestable, yet filling at the same time. So here's 11-15, hope you like it. And please let me know if it is or is not filling, because I'd love to know. That's enough of me, on with the story.**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 11: The Confederacy of Man**

General Stephan Morganholt's teal CMC 300 power armor shone brightly in the fluorescent lighting provided by the overhead glass tubes of the hospital lobby on Harmony Platform. Three stars adorned each of his shoulder pads; each polished to perfection like the rest of his suit. The flak pistol on his hip had a barrel clean enough to lick the inside of, something that the patient before him knew all to well.

It was a miracle that the sick man was even able to open his mouth wide enough to accommodate the front of the heavy sidearm, with it being chambered for .50 caliber explosive ammunition. If the man threw up on the barrel like Morganholt had seen so many men affected by Terrazine do, he would blow the guy's teeth out the back of his head as punishment.

"So I'll ask you one more time: who killed the three men here in the lobby? What were their names?" the General asked slowly and clearly so that there was no margin of non-understanding for the sick man.

"O-o-o," the man said, trying to speak around the flak pistol.

Morganholt removed the weapon from the man's mouth, allowing him to speak more clearly.

"One of them was named Jim. Yeah, yeah I know that for sure. And his armor said 'Goss' on it. Another one was named Nick, oh and that reporter from LNN was here. Um, Suzuhara or something like that," the man stopped to heave a bit of vomit out onto the tile, "There. Can I go now?"

Morganholt shot him in the face, the heavy explosive bullet blowing the man's head apart like a watermelon. Now decapitated, the body slumped to one side, barely making noise as it hit the ground.

"What do you think, sir?" asked Morganholt's second in command, Colonel Banner.

Morganholt watched with disinterest as one of his men wheeled a stretcher full of dead refugees by, blood soaking the white cloth and dripping off the edges in big wet plops. "Well, Banner, one thing's pretty clear: we've got a whole bunch of missing infected personnel on a medical ship older than you are. Then we've got the people responsible for the deaths of our comrades on another ship besides that one," Morganholt said, "But until we can decipher where they jumped to, we've got some down time. See what you can dig up on the names that guy gave us back there. Report to me as soon as you've found something."

"Yes sir!" Banner said and hurried off to accomplish his task.

Morganholt nodded and looked down at his boots, realizing that he was standing in a pool of infected dark-red piss with a cluster of chunks that looked like intestines. Sighing, Morganholt silently wished that he could go back to the Guild Wars, when he was a private, the rules were clear, and war was a clean, fine business to be in.

No gas, no infection, no hassle. That was how a war was fought. It seemed to him that somewhere along the way, they'd lost touch with that honor.

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Ayanami saw the flashing red light before she heard the alarm, so by the time it went off she was already pounding down the main corridor of _Hopeful Tomorrow_. The old Guild Wars era medical ship was laid out pretty simply, with a main corridor lined with medical suites, an engine room at the back, a bridge at the front and an elevator that led to a storage deck below the main one.

She burst into the bridge to see Harris and two nurses manning all the consoles, dashing back and forth between them to keep the ship stable after it had exited warp. The front of the bridge was a huge curving window that offered up a spectacular view of the surrounding space, and at the moment, a look at six Battlecruisers staring right back.

"What's going on?" Ayanami asked.

"We've exited warp somewhere in the Theron star system," Harris replied without looking up from his console, "And now we're staring down six armed and operational Battlecruisers."

"They've locked on!" one of the nurses yipped, clearly not used to being in combat.

Ayanami's mind jumped to the first order of business. "Harris, what kind armament does this ship have?" she asked.

Harris locked eyes with her. "Your Impaler and Flak pistol, my AGR and two Slugthrowers."

"Not much of a ship-to-ship armament," Ayanami muttered.

"Well sweetheart, this is a medical support ship, not a main-line combat vessel. Shit, it's not even a _modern _medical support vessel. What'd you expect? A fucking Yamato gun?" Harris asked.

Ayanami opened her mouth to respond when an image was projected onto the main window, video feed of a man in white CMC armor. The man had his teeth clamped around a fat brown cigar, and acrid smoke rolled up around his face as he spoke.

"This is the commanding officer of the 1st Combined Squadron of the Confederacy of Man. Lower whatever defenses you have or we will be forced to destroy your vessel," he said.

Harris looked up at the man on screen. "We have no defenses, and we're not with any faction. We've got victims of Combine bio-weapons aboard, may we pass?"

The man's eyebrows shot up. "My apologies for being so harsh with the introductions," he said, "May we be of any assistance?"

"Depends, what kind of medical equipment do you have?" Harris asked.

"Tell you what: coordinate with my helmsman and we'll talk about this in person back at our base of operations," the man said, "Okay?"

"Sure," Harris said, not even thinking twice about it, "The name's Harris."

"Good to meet you, Doctor Harris," the man said, smiling in a way that seemed oddly familiar to Ayanami, "My name's Jax, Colonel Bill Jax."


	12. Chapter 12

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 12: Relations**

Jim flew across the bridge, slamming into the wall face first as _The Gunner's Dream _exited warp space ass-backward, throwing textbook procedure out the airlock. Ian engaged emergency thrusters to right the ship, bringing it into a slow drift. He scanned the displays at his console, then looked to Jim.

"We've got an issue in engineering," he said, "A coolant line's burst, shit's spewing everywhere. If it's left unchecked it could fuck over the life support."

"Shit," Jim sighed, turning on his handheld COM unit, "Okay people, we're not out of the fire yet. Prep for repairs in engineering, level one HAZMAT gear. Nick and Jefferies, meet me there pronto."

Jim exited the bridge and jogged down the corridor, ducking under the inconvenient lateral pipe out of reflex. He moved through the armory and reached the door to engineering just in time to see Nick and Jefferies set down a large yellow case. Nick popped the seals on the case, lifting the lid to reveal a set of six orange HAZMAT suits.

Jim reached in and pulled one out. He undid the back seal and stepped in, zipping it up behind him and pulling on the clear dome helmet. Looking at the suit's wrist computer, Jim made sure it was secure against leaks. Safe with the knowledge that it was green across the board, Jim looked to his two companions.

"Radio check," he said into his helmet's mic.

"Loud and clear," Jefferies said.

"Ditto," Nick said, reaching toward the engineering door with one hand.

The door slid open, blowing blue steam across the three men. Nick stepped inside first, soon followed by Jefferies. Jim brought up the rear, using his flashlight beam to cut through the haze and examine the interior.

Off to the right, a pipe was ripped open from the pressure put on it during the jump, a huge gash running along its side. "Jefferies, grab that arc welder! Nick, find a replacement pipe! Let's hurry this up, people, we haven't got all day!"

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Ayanami stood on the bridge of _Hopeful Tomorrow_, watching as they landed at the only spaceport on the backwater planet Hackdirt. Harris, though a good doctor, was at best a mediocre pilot in comparison to a total space jockey like Ian. As a result, the _Tomorrow _smacked into the sides of the landing clamps multiple times before finally holding still long enough for the clamps to secure themselves onto the ship's hull.

After the clamps were attached, Harris killed the engines and let the ship stay suspended above ground twenty feet up. It was quiet enough that Ayanami could hear the exit ramp being attached to the main airlock even as far away as she was from that part of the ship.

Then Harris shattered the silence. "Okay everybody, let's get the patients ready for transfer one more God damn fucking time," he said.

"Doctor, some of them won't be able to handle any more movement," one of the nurses said.

"Well then they'll just have to risk puking up their internal organs sooner rather than later, now won't they?" Harris snapped, "Either way, these people no doubt have better medical facilities than this old piece of shit. So start prepping them. Ayanami, care to join me in meeting our hosts face-to-face?"

Ayanami nodded. "You bet," she replied, hefting her Impaler into a more casual stance as she followed him off the bridge.

They marched to the exit airlock where Harris put in the necessary code. The heavy Neo-steel door slid open and the two people stepped out to meet a team of medical personnel ready with stretchers.

"Mind if get in there?" the leader of the medical team asked Harris.

"No, knock yourself out," the doctor replied, gesturing behind him.

Ayanami moved over to allow the Confederate team entrance into the _Tomorrow_. After they had passed, she followed Harris down the exit ramp and onto the asphalt of the starport. In her white power armor, she was surprised that the black covering hadn't shattered, seeing as it was already beat up beyond what could be described as 'ruined'.

Looking about, she saw a group of men striding across the ground to meet them. There were six men total, all wearing white CMC armor. At the head of the formation was the man she identified as Colonel Jax, a man she desperately hoped wasn't related to the same Jax she had known from six years ago. If he was, she could only pray that he was at least a bit more intelligent.

"Doctor Harris," the Colonel said, extending his CMC armored hand.

Harris took it, albeit rather carefully in the light of its crushing power. "Colonel, I can't say thank you enough for taking us in like this. Those victims in there sure as to hell aren't getting any better."

"Well, you may have full use of our medical facilities and staff. Limited though they are, they must surely be an improvement over whatever you have in that old support ship," Jax replied.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid the entire fucking sector is working off old equipment," Harris spat, "The sooner we get a stable government in place, the better."

"I disagree," Ayanami put in from Harris' right, "I mean, let's look at the last two governments we've had. The Dominion and Confederacy were both fascist, with the former being even worse than the latter. And what's our runner up now? The Combine? I'd take complete chaos over that any day of the week."

Harris and Jax both gawked at her, Harris with a look of pure hatred for seemingly betraying him and Jax with one of absolute wonder.

"How completely right you are," Jax finally said.

"If you agree with me then why are you running the last remaining Confederate stronghold in existence?" Ayanami asked.

"Because," Jax explained, "If I succeed and reinstate the Confederacy as the main controlling body in this sector, then I will run it fairly, with no fascism. All freedom."

Ayanami scoffed. "Yeah, I'll believe that when you show me."

Jax smiled. "Know what? I will show you," he said, "What's your name?"

"Ayanami," she replied.

"I'm Bill Jax," he said, extending his hand, "Welcome to Hackdirt."

"You any relation to Fred Jax? He was a sergeant in the Confederacy, stationed on Tarsonis," she asked, not willing to shake just yet.

"Yeah, he was my brother."

Ayanami shook his hand, feeling safe in the knowledge that he was the same brother that had allegedly made love to a dog on accident. Suddenly, this band of marines didn't seem quite as threatening as before.


	13. Chapter 13

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 13: Complication, Solution**

Jim pulled his HAZMAT helmet off, secure now that the damaged coolant pipe issue had been successfully rectified. Nick tossed his arc welder to Jefferies and pulled off his own helmet, letting the older Ghost put the piece of equipment back into place on a nearby workbench. It faintly bothered Jim how the older man had worked faster then they had, aligning a spare pipe to its fixture without any depth perception.

In fact, a lot about how Jefferies did things with no depth perception faintly bothered Jim. "Ian, Ian what's the status on Ayanami? Have you gotten into contact with them yet?" Jim said into his handheld COM unit.

"No sir," Ian's voice replied, "The subspace communications dish broke off during the warp transition, a result of our unusual entry."

"Shit!" Jim shouted, slamming his foot into a nearby table leg, "That's it, new rule: never fuck up another warp jump!"

"Yeah, you're telling me," Ian muttered, "Oh, by the way, Toji's up and headed your way. He's super fucking pissed, so watch out."

Nick put his own COM unit to his mouth. "No, Ian, it's the other way around."

Jim exited engineering, headed across the hanger by ducking under the dropship, and entered the rest of the ship just in time to see Toji stalking forward. The reporter was pissed and looked the part. His face was screwed up into a look of fury, with the front of his duster undone. He looked like he wanted a fight, and the words he began shouting confirmed it.

"You pulled me out of a story again!" he fumed, "And don't give me any of this 'the Combine was right on us' bullshit. I don't care if hell itself is consuming the area; I'm not being taken out again! You hear me? Even if the fucking Devil is-"

Jim smashed the helmet in his hand into Toji's mouth, snapping his head around and twisting his body with it. Reaching out with his other hand, Jim grabbed the man's shoulder and spun him back around. Then he grabbed Toji by the collar with both hands and threw him up against the nearest bulkhead.

"It's a real good thing that I don't have my sidearm on me. If I did, you'd be seeing hell firsthand by now," Jim hissed in his face.

"That's a threat!" Toji squeaked, "I'll report to Mike about this! He'll fire you!"

"The subspace array's broken, you fucking idiot. How you plan on telling Mike now? Throwing a note out the fucking airlock?" Jim asked, releasing the reporter and heading on up the corridor to the bridge, "Besides, Mike won't fire me."

"What makes you so sure?" Toji asked, straightening his duster to retain a semblance of dignity.

"Because you're too valuable to die, and we're the best there is at keeping your ass alive," Nick said, pushing past on his way to the armory.

Toji looked to Jefferies. "And why the hell'd you knock me out?" he asked, "I can walk, you know."

"You're more willing unconscious," Jefferies said with a smirk, "Kind of like women."

"That was dark, old man," Nick said over his shoulder.

"Sector's a dark place, kid," Jefferies countered.

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"So, where the fuck are we anyway?" Jim asked Ian upon entering the bridge.

Ian lit a cigarette, flipped his lighter shut and then replied. "3,000 light-years away from the Ortega System, otherwise known as the Ass End of Nowhere," he said, "Personally I'd like it better if our SSCA was working, and I could use another pack of cigarettes."

"I've got seven more packs in my footlocker. I'll lend you one," Jim offered.

"Well, I'm halfway content," slurred the sarcastic helmsman.

Jim made a thin, grim smile. "What's in the Ortega System anyway?" he asked.

"Two gas giants and an icy excuse for a habitable planet," Ian replied.

"What else is close and inhabited by people nice enough to lend us a COM array?" Jim asked, holding out a cigarette of his own for Ian to light.

Ian flipped open his zippo and struck Jim's smoke without looking up from his console. "Uh, the Timix System might have something. Last reports say that a group of pirates calling themselves Harvey's Hardballs have set up shop on Timix II, a small deserted ball of sand and rock. They might have an array we can use," he said.

"We are not going to negotiate with pirates!" Toji shouted.

Jim hadn't even realized that the reporter had entered the bridge, and reminded himself to pay more attention. "Look in my contract," he said, "It states that when we are out of contact with LNN leadership, I'm in charge of all personnel attached to this ship."

"Bullshit," Toji said.

"Look it up," Jim told him.

"Fine!" the reporter shouted and headed off the bridge.

Ian turned in his seat. "You serious about that?"

"Fuck no," Jim scoffed, "But it'll take him at least three hours to get through that whole contract. Lay in a course for Timix II."


	14. Chapter 14

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 14: Bearer of Bad News**

Ayanami sat in a wooden chair in the corner of a break room within the hospital on Hackdirt's Alpha Base. Apparently, there were two Confederate bases on the planet with Alpha being the main one and an abandoned one on the other side designated Bravo. The reason why it was abandoned was obvious: there weren't enough troops to fill even one base.

Maybe at one time there was, but after nine years of running not a lot of men seemed to have much faith in the dead government. Ayanami couldn't blame them; she wouldn't have stuck around this long either.

The patients had been moved into the hospital and were being treated. Well, Ayanami wouldn't exactly call it treating. More like making them more comfortable while they died, which as a medic from both Korpulu Wars and the Brood War she was perfectly at home with. In the field, Zerg attacks didn't really give their victims much chance of survival. But at least the Zerg were nice enough to kill their victims on the spot.

Terrazine gas didn't even do its victim that courtesy, rather letting them die in slow agony over time. Even since the transfer to this hospital yesterday, Ayanami had witnessed the death of four patients. One man had shit out his own intestines, a feat that Ayanami hadn't even thought possible. She could still hear the man screaming, blood pouring from his lips and staining the white bed sheets.

Her metallic hand shaking, she picked up a foam cup of coffee and downed it in seconds flat, hoping to lose the disturbing thoughts in a rush of hot caffeine. Unfortunately, all she received was the nasty taste of instant-heat gunk that would linger there for a long time. However, she was certain that the memory of that dying man would haunt her dreams long after the bad tasting beverage was washed away by tomorrow's toothpaste.

The door to the break room slid open and Bill Jax entered, looking in his armor every bit like his younger brother. "Hey Ayanami," he said, pausing at the sight of her Dark Templar arm.

"Yeah," she replied absentmindedly.

Bill shook his head to clear it and continued. "Uh, I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk a bit about my brother," he said.

"Sure," she said, "I've got a bit of time before Harris comes looking for me."

"When did you see him last?" Bill asked.

Ayanami's eyes widened as she realized that Bill didn't know his brother was dead. But of course he didn't, how would he know? That facility on Tarsonis was a secret, after all. Bill probably hadn't even known where Jax was stationed, let alone his status. She sighed, not even wanting to begin what she was about to endure.

"Bill, your brother was killed in combat on Tarsonis six years ago, by an infested ghost named Traz," she told him point blank.

Bill's eyes went blank, losing the gleam of intelligence that had separated his face from that of his brother's, making him look exactly like the late Fred Jax. The resemblance was almost to much for Ayanami to handle and she had to fight to keep from looking away.

To his credit, Bill collected himself quickly, blinking his eyes rapidly and bringing himself back into reality. "Uh, yeah, okay. I kind of figured he might not have made it, um," he stopped, gulping quietly.

"Bill?" Ayanami asked, reaching out to put a hand on his armored shoulder.

He pulled away and her hand fell short, fingers just brushing the edge of white steel. "Not Fred," he said, "I…I said I'd watch him. Make sure that as an officer, he'd be alright. My fucking little brother, man…what was the guy's name? Traz?"

"Yeah," Ayanami confirmed, "But we killed him."

Bill nodded. "Well, I guess that makes it a bit better," he said, turning to leave.

"Hey, look, I know this may seem kind of rude, but have you managed to make contact with my ship yet?" Ayanami asked.

"No. We haven't gotten a response yet, but we'll keep trying," Bill replied.

"Thanks," she said, "Oh, and if you ever in time, want to hear some funny stuff about Jax just let me know."

Bill just looked at her a moment, then finally smiled. "That'd be nice, Ayanami," he said.

"Call me Rei," she offered.

"Okay then, I'd like that Rei."

He turned and left, leaving Ayanami alone in the break room with her thoughts, chair, and a nasty, half-drank cup of sludge.


	15. Chapter 15

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 15: Timix**

"Hey!" Toji shouted as the dropship's engines began to flare up into a screaming howl, "There's nothing in your contract about taking over during a communications failure! The closest thing to that is a-"

"I can't hear you!" Jim lied over the engines from where he was leaning out of the ramp, "Clear out! We're leaving!"

Toji began to say something more to the effect that he wouldn't let Jim take control of the ship, but then the dropship's ramp closed and self preservation came to mind. He had just closed the door to the hanger bay and turned around to look when the airlock beneath the dropship snapped open. The blue hull of the familiar Terran transport model was blasted out into space, leaving Toji and Ian alone on the ship.

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"Good flying," Nick told Jefferies, then unwilling to be nice added, "For an old one-eyed fart like yourself."

"You wouldn't by chance know how to pilot one, now would you?" Jefferies asked.

Nick grunted in the negative. "I just trust people like you to know what you're doing."

"And if people like me fuck up?" Jefferies pressed, adjusting their trajectory for a smooth entry into Timix II's atmosphere.

"Why in the hell do you think I wear these jumpjets? To make a fashion statement?" the Reaper countered.

"Well, they do accentuate your curves," Jefferies smirked.

"Watch it asshole," Nick warned as he walked back into the troop compartment, "Sarcasm's my forte. You'd hate to cross me in that department."

Jim plodded into the cockpit of the dropship, his heavy armored boots clanging on the floor as he came. "I think you're the first person to actually force him to the point of leaving the room," he said, "But I'll warn you: Nick's either a friend or an enemy, both of which are permanent positions. Right now he's probably thinking on it, but it won't be forever before he decides which one you are."

"I'll take it into consideration," Jefferies said, messing with his control stick, "And you, Major Goss? How long has he been your lifetime friend?"

Jim lit a cigarette as he answered. "Right around six years, I'd say. And yeah, he's always been as dry as that planet below us now."

"Speaking of this planet below us," the Ghost said, "Our ETA to the pirate base is two minutes. As of yet, there are no signs that they've detected us. Any particular plan for how we're to find and retrieve that SSCA?"

"Depends," Jim said simply, putting out his cigarette on the back of Jefferies' chair before loading a clip into his Impaler.

"On what?"

"On how they respond to our landing."

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A small metal door jutted out of the mountainside, looking out over the surrounding barren desert world of Timix II like a bored watchman. It was painted to match the dirt around it, and no one without highly trained and keen eyes would ever be able to spot this door. Of course, Jefferies _was_ highly trained and naturally keen, so to him the door stood out like a sore thumb on a Hydralisk.

"Eyes on an entrance," Jefferies said into his earpiece.

"Does it match the thermal scan we took from orbit?" Jim's voice replied, as he was over the dune next to Jefferies.

"Yes," Jefferies answered with a sigh, "But it doesn't really need too anyway. There isn't another settlement anywhere else on this God damn dirtball."

Jim was silent for a second, no doubt talking to Nick off the radio about something. Finally, he got back to Jefferies. "Okay, we're moving in," he ordered, "Cover us."

As Jefferies voice filtered into Jim's helmet with a quick affirmative, he was already in motion. He jumped the dune he was hiding behind and slid down the opposite slope, not an easy feat to accomplish in full CMC armor especially on sand. Nick followed him directly, running as well with the tanks on his back wagging back and forth as he did so.

The two men hustled up the mountainside with their weapons drawn and stacked up on the door, Jim on the right and Nick on the left.

"Okay, Jefferies? You got us covered?" Jim asked.

"Got your back like a butt crack," Jefferies responded.

"Sweet action," Jim said, then nodded to Nick.

The Reaper reached out and hit the open switch on the center of the circular door. It slid aside and a dead body fell out, blood splashed across a gray jumpsuit from cuts across the back. The body fell face first into the sand and slid down the slope on its stomach, staining the ground red in its wake. Jim took a look around the doorframe with his flashlight.

Beyond laid a dark, damp and foggy hallway running deep into the mountain. There were lights along the walls hanging from electrical cables, but they weren't on and some of them had been shattered. Jim pulled his head back and checked his Impaler's ammo count, while Nick did the same for his scythe pistols.

Slowly, they rounded the corner and entered the darkened corridor.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Happy New Year everyone. In honor of 2009, I give you...five more chapters! I would've put 'em up anyway, but whatever. Same drill as before. Check them out, tell me what you liked, didn't like, didn't get, thought was dumb, whatever. Just let me know, I promise I'll respond. Trying to get better at that, you know?**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 16: Leftovers**

"How many are left?" Ayanami asked.

Harris finished covering up a dead patient with a white medical blanket, giving the man a small measure of respect in death that the harshness of the Korpulu Sector didn't allow him in life. The doctor turned to Ayanami, smoothing his coat as he did so. "Forty-nine and counting down fast," he said, "I'm projecting the deaths of every last patient in sixty-three hours, if we continue to help as much as possible."

Ayanami nodded and put a small blue mask over her mouth before popping open the door to the room full of infected. Small partitions had been set up to retain privacy for the patients, but giving them each their own room wasn't something that could be done. The infected had to be contained, because even though the conditions weren't first level contagious, they still had to be careful about contact.

Harris followed the blue-haired medic in and was immediately confronted by one of his two remaining nurses. Her white uniform was stained with bile, and bloody mucus covered half her face, running down into her lips.

"I'm through," she stated boldly, "These fucking people can all just die for all I care. I'm done getting puked on."

The nurse stormed out of the room before Harris could say anything; the door sliding shut behind her. "Shit," he muttered.

It seemed like no one knew how to help anyone anymore, only concerned with self-preservation. As he watched Ayanami inject a dying man with a cocktail of sedatives designed to keep him off the edge of death just a bit longer, Harris felt relieved that at least one other person still cared about their fellow man.

However, what Harris didn't know was that most of Ayanami's energy came from just trying to keep her mind off the fact that contact with _The Gunner's Dream_ still hadn't been reestablished. But work only busied her to a certain extent, and in the back of her mind she couldn't help but think what if they hadn't made it?

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Jim edged his way down the hallway, Impaler moving back and forth in front of him, waiting for something to jump out from behind a crate and attack him so he could blow it back into the darkness from which it sprang. His shoulder lamp passed across a man, sliced in half at the waist and tossed up onto an outcropping of rock jutting from the wall. A pile of entrails were coiled at the base of the rock, blood solidified.

"Blood's hard," Nick observed, "This happened a while ago."

"Doesn't mean what did it isn't still here," Jim countered, looking sideways at the corpse.

Lying next to the man's lifeless fingers was a holo-board, covered in a light layer of dirt. Jim picked it up, careful not to break it with his steel gloves. He wiped away the dirt and tapped it twice, bringing up a journal entry.

_April 21__st__, 2507._

_We dug something up today in the east tunnel. Harvey's had us digging more tunnels than ever lately, and boy did we hit the jackpot. There's a whole underground complex here! Its amazing, like nothing I've ever seen before. We're mounting an expedition into the complex tomorrow. I'll write more later._

Jim clicked a button and brought up the next entry.

_April 22__nd__, 2507_

_We looked into that complex today, found all the little pools of water that were under the different buildings. That's the clearest H20 I've ever had, and its not just because I've gotten used to this nasty bottled shit. Found some kind of temple structure, but we're not sure what it does yet. We're gonna try and go up in there after lunch._

_April 23__rd__, 2507_

_We made it into the temple this morning. Took us a lot longer to drill through that stone then I thought it would. Broke three bits in the process. But damn it was worth it! We found some kind of tablet, about ten feet tall, four feet across and around two feet thick. All sorts of stuff written on it. None of us can read what it says, but Harvey's guessing that some collector'd pay a shit load of money for it. Thing is, when we moved it, it set off some kind of high-pitched whine. Oh well, now we're gonna try and package it for transport on the ship._

_April 26__th__, 2507_

_If you're reading this, then get the fuck out right now! They're killing everyone! I don't know what the fuck's hitting us, but people are dying. I think they're here for the tablet we dug up, shit, here comes one now. That's it, I'm taking this bitch out._

"Good job, kid," Jim muttered, tossing the board down onto the dead man.

He looked over at Nick and opened his mouth to say something, when another voice cut him off. "Die mother fuckers!"

The next thing Jim knew, there was a loud bang and a white light, then he was covered in dirt.


	17. Chapter 17

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 17: Battle at Hackdirt I**

Ayanami jolted upright in her bunk, having been woken by the sound of a droning alarm in the camp outside her barracks block. She stood up and grabbed the Impaler at her bedside, walking outside into the bland hallway to the sight of armored Confederate troops pounding past her toward the exit.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked a marine as he thundered by.

The kid stopped and turned to her, revealing a face that couldn't possibly have been old enough to even remember life under the Confederacy in any detail. "Combine, ma'am," he replied, "They're advancing on the perimeter. Colonel Jax is scrambling an intercept force."

Ayanami nodded and ducked back into her room. With practiced haste, she assembled her armor around her body, clamping each piece together with a deft precision that illustrated how long she had lived with the armor. She snapped a flak pistol to one hip and a medical injector to the other before sliding her helmet into place.

As the suit's power activated the COM system, she began to catch the frantic conversations typical of a combat radio frequency. She dashed out into the hallway and joined the flood of troops, joining into the unofficial and sloppy pattern of thudding boots as they jogged out into the camp.

Though Ayanami's mission clock read 0730 hours, the sky looked nothing resembling a typical morning on Hackdirt. The clouds were scratched in long sprays of red and black from a combination of Confederate anti-air fire and the explosive deaths of Combine ships. Men ran to and fro, jumping into defense trenches and lining their weapons up with the horizon, preparing for a ground attack not yet begun.

"Rei!"

Ayanami spun around to see Bill, his ever-present armor already donned. He clutched an Impaler one-handed, an older version exactly like the one his younger brother always kept with him, refusing to upgrade.

"Shouldn't you be commanding a ship right now?" she questioned.

"Shouldn't you be evacuating dying patients?" he countered without missing a beat.

"Maybe I'm headed that way," she said.

"Then you'd better get going," Bill advised, "We've only got a thirty minute window to cover you guys and we're counting sixteen hostile Battlecruisers descending from the atmosphere right now."

At that moment, Harris entered the conversation, having walked up in an SCV he'd been using for transferring equipment. "If I move those people one more time, they _will _die. No ifs ands or fucking buts about it."

"So then what?" Ayanami asked, "We just leave them here for the Combine to slaughter?"

"Who the hell said the Combine's gonna take this base?" Bill asked.

"I did," Ayanami snapped.

Harris backed her up. "Last I checked, you're outnumbered sixteen to six, and unless you pull a fleet out of your bastard tight corn hole, I don't see those odds getting any better."

"Spoken like a true tactician," Bill muttered, "Look, do whatever you want to with your people, but we're pulling the hell out in exactly one hour. If you want a ride, you've got one, but to be honest I'd like to reroute that thirty minutes of air cover to something that can actually inflict damage on these fuckers."

"Then do it, because we're not leaving in that piece of broken old shit," Harris said.

"Good," Bill said and walked away, reorganizing the evacuation and defense strategies over his radio with his lieutenants.

Ayanami turned to Harris. "We're not taking the _Tomorrow_?"

"Not if I can help it, sweetheart," the doctor replied, heading off toward the medical center, "And don't help me. I can figure this out on my own. Help with the defense."

Ayanami hesitated.

"Go!" Harris shouted over his shoulder.

She snapped into action. joining another formation of troops in their sprint across the asphalt of the spaceport for the southern defensive trench. One of the Confederacy's six Battlecruisers flew free of its docking clamps and started to drift across the runway on its massive engines, casting Ayanami's group of marines into its enormous shadow.

"Spread out, people! Watch for strafing runs!" shouted the formation's commanding officer, a sergeant up at the front of the pack, "Remember, we're in a dead zone for the AA!"

As if to illustrate the point in blunt and spectacular detail, twenty some-odd Combine Banshee attack aircraft slammed their combined compliment of Backlash cluster rockets into the hovering Battlecruiser's side. The bulky and unwieldy craft wobbled, lost 'balance' and came crashing down nose-first into the asphalt off to the left of Ayanami's position.

Chunks of pavement pelted the marines, knocking some of them to the ground. Then the Battlecruiser's rear end started to fall toward them.

"Move! Move! Get out from under it!" shouted the platoon CO.

The marines didn't really need to be told, as they were tearing ass across the tarmac to clear it even before he spoke. Ayanami pumped her legs hard enough to feel them start to burn from the strain, a difficult thing to accomplish in powered armor. She cleared the ship's shadow, but continued on far beyond it until she heard the resonating wham of the Battlecruiser's ass touching down behind her.

She turned in time to make out the crushed front end of the ship, looking for all the armament more like a beached whale then a spaceship of war. It was then that a pair of laser blasts slammed into the engine compartment, red-lining the power and setting off the reactors. Ayanami's suit saw the thermonuclear explosion coming, and compensated by polarizing her visor as far as it would go.

The ship went off, throwing the marines through the air and past the defensive trench, high enough up that they could see said trench ripple and disappear in the atomizing heat wave.

When Ayanami touched down on her back, she looked up into the bleeding sky to see Combine Battlecruisers engaging the Confederate fleet in a low orbit, burning Yamato shots and laser blasts crisscrossing between them.

Then she rolled over and looked out across the badlands of Hackdirt, to be welcomed by the not-so-comforting silhouettes of three Combine Thors.


	18. Chapter 18

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 18: Battle at Hackdirt II**

Ayanami sat up and looked around at the other marines still left over from the hard landing. Not many of them were moving, and the ones that were weren't in any condition to fight. From where she sat, the only thing she saw in most of their immediate futures was two-week's worth of bed rest. That was assuming that they all survived the next few minutes.

"Who's in charge here!?" she shouted.

The marine nearest to her looked around at the group, then turned back to her. "No one. The Sarge is dead," the kid said.

"Okay, that means you are," Ayanami told the private, "Consider yourself a corporal. Get everyone who can move ready for immediate dust-off."

As the marine got to work, Ayanami stumbled to her feet, applying weight first to her left leg, then to her right one. She quickly discovered that the latter wasn't functioning as well as she would've preferred, and soon she found herself climbing back up off her ass a second time. Meanwhile, the three Combine Thors in the distance weren't getting any further away.

"Come in, Confederate command, come in!" she shouted over her COM link, "This is Ayanami with sixth platoon! We're in need of assistance south of the spaceport! Incoming hostiles! We cannot hold! Repeat: cannot hold!"

"Rei, this is Bill. We're moving in with a dropship right now. ETA Uber fucking quick," said a calm voice on the other end.

"Roger that!" Ayanami shouted.

She squelched the line and looked into the sky to see a white dropship moving in, its ramp already lowering. In the airspace above the main base, she could see even more dropships bugging out to link up with the Squadron's flagship, _Tarsonis_, where it held back out of the air battle between the Combine and Confederate fleets. Ayanami prayed that Harris had made it onto one of them, along with all the patients.

The dropship landed and Ayanami saw Bill standing at the edge of the ramp, beckoning her aboard. "Come on!" he shouted.

She stumbled inside, soon followed by the remains of sixth platoon. After helping the injured into their seats, she patted Bill on the shoulder.

"Did Harris make it out?" she asked.

Bill looked uncomfortable as he responded. "They already overran the medical center."

"Turn this thing around!" she shouted, "We've got to get him out of there!"

Bill grabbed her by her shoulders and slammed her against a bulkhead. "Look, I've lost two ships already, and if we're lucky we'll get out of here with one or two intact. Everyone's evacuating to the _Tarsonis_. Even if I committed everything to rescuing a doctor who's probably already dead, the Combine's ground numbers already outnumber us five-to-one," he explained, not yelling, but talking with great force behind each word, "We have to leave now, and save what little we have left. I'm sorry."

Ayanami looked away, her blue bangs obscuring Bill's view of her eyes. He slowly let go of her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Rei," he repeated, heading up to the cockpit to supervise the rendezvous with the Battlecruiser ahead.

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"Get them up against the wall!"

At the behest of their commanding officer, the Kel-Morian marines pushed every gathered medical patient into position with their backs against the white brick of the lobby's wall. Harris ended up shoved between a husband and wife, his jaw broken as a result of how a marine had chosen to motivate him into place.

As the marines backed off and loaded their weapons, Harris looked up through a hole in the roof created by a stray missile. He caught the tail end of the _Tarsonis_ as it moved through a warp portal. The rest of the remaining Confederate ships covered its retreat, some of them burning from to many laser blasts to their hulls. He silently hoped Ayanami was aboard the _Tarsonis_. If she made it, then maybe there was still hope for a cure to the gas that had poisoned all the men and women around Harris.

"Take aim!" shouted the Colonel in charge of the marine execution squad.

"Doctor?" asked the man next to Harris.

"Yes?" Harris replied.

The man was a pale shade of yellowish green, a sharp contrast to the burning bloodshot red of his eyes. Harris's instincts screamed at him to take a temperature reading to monitor the Terrazine progression, but he realized it would be kind of futile at this point.

"I just wanted to say," the man stopped and coughed up a bloody string of something, "Say thank you."

Harris nodded, content now that he had heard that. As he turned to face the firing squad, Dr. Ethan Harris was content with knowing that he hadn't wasted his life, and that he had done all he could to help his fellow man. He closed his eyes and awaited the hammering pain of a hail of spikes hitting him.

"Fire!"

A sound like tearing sheet lightning assailed Harris's ears, accompanied by a feeling like a million stabbing needles, then nothing.


	19. Chapter 19

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 19: The Writing on the Wall**

Executor Ranyt's given name at birth was Tobias Canovich. He was born on a small planet at the edge of Confederate held space, the son of Terran colonists. A very small Zerg force that was just beginning the Swarm's preliminary incursions into the Korpulu Sector attacked Tobias's home planet when he was in third grade.

A Protoss task force was hot on its heels, arriving to find a settlement devoid of human life. The Protoss in charge of the retaliation fleet, Executor Ithitos, led an attack on the Zerg infesting the world. After successfully cleansing the infestation, Ithitos was walking the streets of the ruined Terran settlement when he happened upon a quivering young lad.

Sensing a remarkable psionic presence within the young Tobias, Ithitos took him back to Aiur to show his fellow Protoss that the Terran weren't so primitive as originally thought. His fellows balked at him, and the noble Protoss was shunned from the public eye, staying at the back of the counsel during meetings.

At home, Tobias was welcomed into Ithitos's family and treated as a third son by the decorated Executor. He was given the name Ranyt, and taught as much of the Kahla as his non-Protoss mind could comprehend.

As he grew in time, Ranyt became fascinated with the mystery surrounding the Xel'Naga. He began studying their architecture, learning their writing, and slowly started to decipher small pieces of a greater puzzle.

However, the Conclave would have none of it, and strove to halt him at every turn. Ithitos stood up for his adopted son when the issue was brought forth before the council. After a heated debate, one of the council members murdered proud Ithitos in cold blood, right on the floor of the hallowed chamber. Ranyt fled Aiur with a group of close supporters including one of his stepbrothers.

Once out among the stars, the sixteen-year-old Ranyt began hunting down Xel'Naga artifacts and adding to his vast catalogue of knowledge of their culture. But with the fulfillment of each new discovery came the hunger for more. After a time, Ranyt became so fixated upon the old ones' history that he lost sight of his morals, cutting down anything that stood between him and the next bit of information.

That included the small band of pirates known as Harvey's Hardballs, who in their sloppy excavation and subsequent exploration of a subterranean Xel'Naga temple had accidentally set off a security beacon that was often installed in such temples. Ranyt had picked up on it, and now stood in front of a ten-foot tall tablet deep underground, reading the inscriptions on its surface.

Like most Xel'Naga inscriptions, what was on the architecture surrounding the tablet was just as important as what was on the tablet itself. Ranyt typically worked his way around the circumference of the temple and inward, deciphering each glyph on each wall, floor, ceiling and pillar along the way until reaching the centerpiece.

He had just reached the main tablet that morning when his second in command, a Zealot named Solyntus, had informed him that a Terran ship had been spotted in orbit. Now that an explosion had reached his ears, originating from the Terran-dug tunnels behind them, Ranyt decided that now would be the opportune time to leave.

He had already memorized every inscription, as well as taken stills and video of them with his personal Probe, so removing anything from the temple wasn't necessary. Besides, Ranyt didn't believe in disturbing the ruins, as often times their very construction was key to their meaning.

"Solyntus, who have you dispatched to deal with our guests?" he asked the Zealot behind him without looking up from his work.

"Oddos and Keulay," Ranyt's long-time friend replied, "Shall I prepare the ship for departure?"

"Indeed you shall. I will be along shortly, En Taro Adun," Ranyt said.

"En Taro Adun, Executor," Solyntus said, stalking off to prepare their small ship for flight.

Ranyt heard the rip of Terran gunfire from the tunnels and wondered just how the two Zealots Solyntus had sent were doing.

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Jim pushed a rock out of his way and let loose with a clip-full of Impaler fire directly into the gut of the first Zealot he saw. The sheer weight of the barrage pummeled the Protoss warrior's shields into non-existence, but left no bullets left for actually killing the target. Jim's HUD informed him that Nick was still making his way out of the rubble created by an energy bomb attached to the ceiling of the tunnel, meaning that Jim was a sitting duck.

The Zealot moved forward, psi blades raised to execute him, when a C10 canister shot blew its head into a vibrant sploosh of fluorescent blue. As the dangerous psi blades dispersed and the headless body fell over, Jefferies appeared. The Ghost ran past the fallen body and put the rest of his ammunition directly into the second Zealot's chest, lowering its shields to nothing.

The Zealot swung at Jefferies. The man ducked under it, dropped his rifle and reached up to grab his opponent's arm. Surprise on the part of the Zealot, coupled with sheer rage-filled strength on Jefferies' part allowed the veteran of countless conflicts to force the Zealot's own blade of energy up into its forehead. The second and final hostile hit the rocky floor of the tunnel, a sick wet smacking noise accompanying a sizable splat of blood.

"You alright, Jim?" Jefferies asked, picking up his rifle as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah," Jim said, dumbfounded, "You, uh, took out two Zealots. By hand."

"Uh-huh, and there's probably a lot more still around," the older man said, "Which means we should be fucking moving right now. Hey, Nick! Get out from under those rocks! We aren't getting any younger out here!"

"You can say that again," the Reaper mumbled, pushing a slab of rock off his artificial leg and climbing out from under the rubble.

Jefferies ignored Nick's sarcasm and turned to Jim. "Where to now?"

"Forward," Jim said, "We still need that fucking array. Maybe our newfound alien friends know where we can find one."

"So how do you plan on getting it? Asking nicely?" Nick asked.

Jim grinned, hefted his Impaler and slammed a fresh, full clip home into its slot. "Precisely."


	20. Chapter 20

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 20: **_**Manifestation Eternal**_

"This way!" Jefferies shouted back along the tunnel branching off of the main hollowed out base.

Jim and Nick caught up with the Ghost just in time for the secondary tunnel to empty out onto a precipice overlooking an enormous cavern. The lush green of grass sprang up from the floor, while bushes dotted the walls and vines swayed from the ceiling. Cropping up out of this vivid jungle were several structures made of tanned stone, weeds jutting out from cracks in their construction.

At the very center of the room was a towering pyramid, a flight of stairs running up each of its four slopes. Sitting at the very top of the giant temple was a stand of pillars surrounding a massive stone tablet, and the golden armored figure that Jim figured was the leader of this Protoss force. He turned to Jefferies and gestured toward the target in question.

"Scope that area," he said, "And take out that son of a bitch."

Jefferies snapped his rifle up into place and looked through the scope. He let the crosshairs drift into position over the back of his target's head. Then the figure turned and looked him directly in the eye, giving Jefferies a clear view at a distinctively human face. At the shock of seeing a Terran wearing golden Zealot armor, Jefferies hesitated.

Not long, but just long enough for the target to glow blue and teleport out of the temple. When he finally fired, Jefferies bullet passed through thin air and blasted a chunk out of the glyph-filled tablet at the center of the temple's top.

"What the fuck?!" Jim shouted.

Jefferies looked away from his scope, bringing his one eye around to rest coldly on Jim. "It wasn't even Protoss. There was a fucking human over there!"

"Elderly compassion setting in?" Nick asked, not missing the opportunity to slam the aging Ghost.

"You want to see me shoot a Terran in the head, eh?" Jefferies countered, adjusting his C10 for emphasis.

Jim stepped between the two men. "No one's shooting anyone," he said with finality, "Now look, if they teleported their leader out, then it's reasonable to assume that they beamed the rest of their troops out. But that doesn't totally rule out the possibility of some being left behind to deal with us."

Just then, Jim's radio crackled to life. "Jim? Ian here. Man, a Protoss vessel just made an in-atmosphere jump from right on top of your heads. Is something going on down there?" asked the voice of the _Dream_'s helmsman.

"Yeah," Jim said, stepping out from his place separating the feuding Ghost and Reaper, "Everything's alright. Go ahead and bring the _Dream _in for a landing. And tell Toji that there's something interesting down here for a possible story."

"Roger that," Ian said, then the link went dead.

Jefferies sighed as he slung his rifle. "I'm gonna have to use that bloody camera again. Shit."

"Weakling," Nick scoffed, heading off back into the main tunnel network.

"Reaper," Jefferies spat, somehow making it sound like the dirtiest curse word in existence as he headed down a slope to where a clean stream amid the ruins looked rather inviting.

Soon, Jim found himself standing alone on the precipice.

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Ranyt stood at the heart of his light frigate, the _Manifestation Eternal_. He had shed his suit of golden battle armor in exchange for a dark blue robe, which he wore wrapped around his slender frame, secured by a knot above his right shoulder. Around him were a multitude of holographic screens, each one filled with different tidbits of Xel'Naga inscriptions that he had collected over the years.

As he stood cross-referencing the different pieces, a definite pattern started to emerge. Several words were applied in direct reference to a certain symbol, words consisting of 'return' 'revival' and other prophetic terms. The only problem, was that the meaning of the symbol in question totally eluded Ranyt, as in his entire database of information it had no definition.

To date, he had found the symbol as the subject of eighteen different ruined temples. Thankfully, he had been able to piece together the location of an explanation for the symbol. Well, almost. Once again, the intricacies of Xel'Naga culture complicated his progress. And in all honesty, Ranyt wouldn't prefer it any other way.

"Executor!" said Solyntus as he entered the chamber.

"Yes?" Ranyt asked in an irritated tone.

"I apologize for my intrusion," Solyntus said, bowing, "But there is an urgent communiqué that requires your divine attention."

"From?" Ranyt pressed, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the screens before him.

Solyntus shifted uncomfortably, telling Ranyt exactly who had sent the message. Though a noble warrior, Solyntus was always a bit nervous about collaborating with 'the Dark Ones'.

"I'll take it in here," Ranyt said, dismissing his subordinate with a wave of his hand, "En Taro Adun."

"En Taro Adun," Solyntus said as he left.

The screen to Ranyt's left ceased to display ruined architecture and immediately showed the face of his closest ally in Xel'Naga research.

"How are things?"

Ranyt smiled. "Oh the irony of your questioning," he said, "I believe I may have just recently stumbled upon all that we've been striving for."


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: Here's the new update. Sorry it took so long, but like all modern day American teenagers, school get's in my way. Fucking educational system...anyway, here you go. As always, let me know what you thought, preferably in the form of a review. I'm not much good when it comes to reading minds. *Salute***

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 21: Baby Steps**

Toji reached the entrance to the hidden Hardballs base and was met by Jim, who stood outside the doorway with his Impaler. "It's clear in there, right?" he asked the marine.

"Yeah, we've checked everywhere. If anything's left, it's fucking amazing at hide-and-go-seek," Jim replied, opening the door as he spoke.

Toji followed Jim through the tunnels, carefully stepping over dead bodies. "So what's this story possibility you talked about?" he asked, wiping some rocky powder off of his duster.

"You'll see," Jim replied mysteriously as he continued on through the tunnel.

Toji stopped in the middle of the path, rubbing the back of his head nervously. He sat the camera he had hauled up the slope from the _Dream_ down beside him. "Hey, Jim? Can I talk to you a sec?" he asked.

The massive CMC 300 armor in front of Toji stopped with an abrupt clang, before slowly turning and blinding him with light from the shoulder lamp. The reporter shielded his eyes, but still couldn't reduce the glare enough to see Jim's face.

"About what?" the marine asked, the sound of his voice indicating the presence of a cigarette in his mouth.

"About pulling me out of story zones," Toji said.

Jim's response was immediate. "Fucking hell," he groaned, "Can we just be done with this?"

"Damnit, Jim, that's what I'm trying to do! Give me a fucking chance to talk before cutting me off!" Toji stopped himself, taking a deep breath before continuing. Jim's light still beat down on him, but he pressed on. "Okay, look, you're right. You hear that you stubborn asshole? You're right!"

Jim's light vanished, and Toji's vision changed from searing white to a greenish blue sunspot on his retina. "Come again?" Jim asked, "Did I hear correctly? Or was I imagining things with my _amazingly_ stubborn mind? It sounded like you said I'm right to pull you out of high risk areas."

Toji sighed. "Yeah, you heard right," he admitted, then added, "But it would be nice if you could let me know it's time to go before picking me up and running off to the dropship."

"And then you'll quit bitching?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, I'll quit bitching."

Jim looked hard at the reporter for a minute, seeming to test the validity of his statement. Finally, he extended his armored hand. "Shake on it," he said, more a statement than a request.

Toji reached out against his better judgement and pressed flesh to steel. The two men shook, then Jim turned and continued down the tunnel.

"Jefferies is waiting," the marine Major said, "He's ready to film when you get there."

"Got it," Toji said, picking up the camera and following Jim.

There was a long way to go before they could call each other friends, but Toji allowed himself a small smile at the thought that they had progressed even this far. If anything, at least he wouldn't get knocked out and punched as often.

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"We're safely in warp space," the _Tarsonis_' helmsman reported, turning in his seat to face Bill.

The Confederate Colonel looked up from one of two tactics tables on the capital ship's bridge to see that each crewmember in the room was looking to him, waiting for him to say something. Bill carefully looked each member in the eyes, checking each of them. All of them had the same look of worry adorning their faces.

Bill knew why, he could sympathize, even. Hackdirt had been their home since the fall of the Confederacy infrastructure all those years ago. And now, to abandon it, along with losing the rest of the ships in their Squadron, things looked kind of dark.

"Yeah, I know what you're all thinking," he said at last, "But don't worry. We've lost homes before, each of us. Am I right? This is just one more loss."

Then, seeing the faces darken, he continued. "However, this will be our final loss. From now on, we're on the offensive. I know that we've only got one ship, but it is a _hell _of a ship. With the finest crew a commanding officer could ever want. We're a bit understaffed, but so fucking what? We'll all have to pull a little more weight, sure, but we're used to that, right? I assure all of you, each and every one of you, that you will live to see the Kel-Morian Combine perish beneath the boots of those it has come to terrorize."

Bill didn't have to look especially close to see that his words had sent shivers up spines. If there was one thing he was good at it was getting people fired up. As he turned and strode from the bridge, the crew getting to work behind him, he realized that the only flaw in his plan was actually having to go through with it.

He would need more men, more ships, more ammunition, more able officers, more water, more food, and most importantly a workable plan for how he was actually supposed to bring down an enemy ten times bigger than he was. Suddenly it seemed a more ominous and insurmountable task than it had a few short seconds before.

"Nice one, Billy boy," he mumbled to himself as he walked, "Now what're you gonna do?"

"Talking to yourself?" a voice asked.

Bill looked to his right and saw Ayanami standing at the entrance to the medical bay. Her suit was off, and with nothing on her upper body but a light blue tank top, Bill had an unobstructed view of her robotic arm.

"Well, I just made a crazy promise that I can't keep to about twenty officers who'll have spread it all over the ship in a matter of hours," he said, "So, at this point, talking to myself is totally acceptable."

"What'd you tell them?" Ayanami asked.

Bill shook his head. "That we can beat the Combine."

Ayanami smiled. "Sounds like fun," she said, "Who are we working with?"

"No one as of yet," he said, slightly embarrassed about the lack of allies, "But I'm sure we'll find some."

"Yeah, well if we could get in touch with my teammates, we'd at least have the media on our side," the blue-haired medic scoffed, "I wonder what the fuck they could be doing."


	22. Chapter 22

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 22: Communications Online**

"And three, two, one: action!"

At Jefferies countdown, Toji started in on his pre-prepared news statement that was scrolling by on a holo-board next to the camera lens.

"I'm standing in a cave on the desert planet Timix II on the outskirts of the Korpulu Sector, where a recent incursion of pirates to the area has revealed the remains of some form of ancient temple or shrine," Toji said, moving aside so that the entirety of the cave was revealed to the camera, "As you can see, the sophisticated nature of this ruined structure allows for running water and flawless craftsmanship.

"As one stands here, looking at all this, their first impression is one of wonderment for the attention the designers paid to detail. Then, the question arrives: who were the designers? This isn't Protoss architecture, and it obviously isn't Terran. So whose is it? Could this be the work of some other, unknown race?

"Of course, answers to these questions require men versed in archeology. However, in the Sector's current state, it is sad to say that men of that stature are few and far between. For LNN news, I'm Toji Suzuhara. Back to you, Mike."

"And cut," Jefferies said, turning his camera off with great relief.

"Good work, Jefferies," Toji said, clapping the older man on the shoulder in a never-before-seen show of affection, "Thanks. I'll upload it to the database."

As Toji slipped the camera out of the Ghost's hand and walked away, Jefferies wondered if the reporter had been drinking. That was the only explanation he could come up with to explain the nice attitude. Suddenly, Jefferies' earpiece burst to life, interrupting his thoughts.

"Jefferies! Get your ass up here! We found an SSCA!" Jim's voice shouted.

"Yeah," the Ghost replied, picking up his rifle from where it leaned against a nearby stone wall, "I'll be right there."

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Jim stood on one side of the large transport crate that contained the Sub Space Communication Array that they required on board the _Dream_. On the other side stood Nick, his pistols holstered and his gas mask off to allow a cigarette to be smoked.

"You gotta lay off," Jim told his friend.

Nick looked up at him and took the cigarette from his mouth, pinning it between two fingers. "I don't care if it'll kill me. Besides, you smoke twice as much as I do."

"Not that, damnit," Jim sighed, "Jefferies. You've gotta lay off Jefferies."

"Fuck that," Nick said, looking back at the dirt floor as if it were more interesting.

Jim shook his head. "Lay off him," he stated firmly, "Don't make me make it an order."

"Making it an order is your decision, Jim. I'm not making you do anything," the Reaper said, flicking ash to the ground.

"In that case, I'm making it an order," Jim said, doing something he didn't like one bit, "Lay the fuck off Jefferies. Clear, Sergeant?"

Nick fixed him with a glare that could melt a hole in the morale of even the most hardened marines as he crushed the butt of his smoke into the ground beneath his boot. Jim held his gaze, and eventually won out, the Reaper blinking and looking away first.

"Clear, Major," Nick spat, clipping off each word.

Jim grunted and looked away. Bringing the rank difference up between the two of them was never something that Jim liked doing. He'd only had to do it a handful of times, but in every instance it bugged the shit out of him. He didn't like doing it to anyone, least of all his best friend. Doing it totally alienated him from the men around him, forcing him to play the role of distant leader even when not in combat.

Sometimes, Jim really loathed being promoted.

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Communications Officer Dick Roberts sat in a beat up brown leather chair in the communications room of the _Tarsonis_. Dick was charged with the unsavory and extremely tedious assignment of gaining contact with the crew of _The Gunner's Dream_. He was reasonably sure that by the time he got a hold of the ship in question, his ass would have to be surgically removed from the seat, as it had started to fold up around him like a mother caressing an unwilling infant.

That last thought actually disturbed Dick a bit, and to ward off the feeling, he broke the automated message he had prepared for the _Dream_.

"This is Confederate Combined Squadron flagship _Tarsonis _calling _The Gunner's Dream_. Come in _Gunner's Dream_, please."

Not hearing anything, he started to set the automatic message again. Then a voice punched through the dull drone of static. And it sounded irritated.

"Put a cork in it, for shit's sake," it said, "We're still trying to get this thing working right. What do you want? Who the fuck are you?"

"Um, hold please," Dick managed.

"Hold my ass!"

Dick ignored the angry voice and turned on his personal com unit. "Sir, I've reached _The Gunner's Dream_," he reported, "What should I tell them?"


	23. Chapter 23

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 23: Southampton Dock**

"When should we expect them?"

Ayanami looked up from the computer screen on her desk. She turned to see Bill, standing squarely in the doorway to the _Tarsonis_' medical bay. Without his armor on, he didn't look as much like his younger brother. He still stood like Fred Jax, though, as if every situation was a fight waiting to happen. This thought triggered a question in the blue-haired medic's head.

"They're jumping our way ASAP," she replied, cocking her head to one side, "How much older than Fred are you? To tell you the truth, you don't look older than him."

Bill sighed and sat down on the edge of a nearby medical cot, sticking his hands in the pockets of his uniform pants. "I'm only a year older, the oldest in our family. We started out as four brothers: Me, Fred, Donnie and Andy. Donnie and Andy were still just kids when the fighting broke out on Antiga, and at best guess, they both died there," Bill said, "And now that Fred's gone, I guess I'm the only Jax brother left."

"You're only one year older?" Ayanami asked, trying to keep him going.

"Yeah," he replied, shrugging, "But I've always been more mature, and I don't say that to sound smug. Hell, you served with Fred. He was a moron, wasn't he?"

Ayanami giggled, remembering an occasion when Jax had openly accused Nanius of cheating at poker. The statement might have actually held some merit had Jax not been so liberal with his choppy grammar and florid cursing. Nanius had taken the verbal beating in stride and laid down his next hand, totally wiping out the rest of the opposition.

Then a totally different thought crept into her mind. "You know, Bill, I seem to remember your brother telling us something about you making love to a dog on accident."

"That mother fucker," Bill muttered, "Son of a bitch would never let that go."

"Care to elaborate on what occurred?"

Bill locked eyes with her. "Not at the moment, no."

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Jim stood still, looking over Ian's shoulder as the helmsman worked to dock _The Gunner's Dream_ to the comparatively massive _Tarsonis_. The younger man was focused one hundred percent on the task at hand. His hands danced over the controls, alternating between long pauses of drifting the ship and moments of furious movement during thruster firings.

Ian hadn't said anything until he started to come immediately upon the linking node. "Jim, do I breathe down your neck when you're busy killing babies?"

"That's a terrible stereotype of marines, but yeah, I get your point," Jim replied, stepping out from behind Ian and heading for the exit.

He entered the main corridor and headed toward the armory, intent on suiting up for the meeting with whomever Ayanami had teamed up with. When they'd finished wrestling the new SSCA into working order atop the small reporting ship, they'd immediately made contact with the _Tarsonis_, picking up on a looped message. Ayanami had helped coordinate a rendezvous between the two ships at a position in deep space.

All that had taken place two days ago. Now that they were in position and docking with the ship in question, Jim couldn't help but wonder at who Ayanami's new friends were and if they had any cigarettes. In waiting for Ian to triple check the warp jump calculations, he'd run through the remainder of his cartons in a spree of chain smoking unlike any he'd ever experienced before. If it was nervousness about Ayanami's condition or the fear of experiencing another wacky warp jump, Jim wasn't sure.

Maybe it was a bit of both, he decided, sliding an AGR-14 assault rifle across his back. Nick slid two Slugthrowers into holsters under his armpits where he stood next to Jim, sliding a brown jacket over them, concealing the two weapons without a trace. The pockets probably had some throwing knifes stashed within them, but Jim couldn't be sure.

Jefferies hammered his foot against a bench, forcing it deeper into one of his knee-high stealth boots, only a small portion of the full Ghost armor he was suiting up in. His C10, the traditional and time-honored weapon of the Terran Ghost operative, sat faithfully next to him, a round already in its chamber. As the old soldier finished sealing his boot to his calf, Jim stepped up next to him.

"How'd you lose your eye anyway?" he asked.

Jefferies didn't respond immediately, and Jim opened his mouth to repeat the question in case it hadn't been heard.

"I heard you, Jim," Jefferies said, silencing the younger Major, "But you don't want to know. Trust me, you don't."

"Ex-wife?" Nick shot from across the narrow enclosure.

"Try former student," Jefferies replied, picking up his rifle and heading for the airlock, "We're about to dock."

Jim felt the ship shake beneath him as the Ghost's prophecy came true. He gestured to Nick and together they headed after Jefferies toward the exit airlock.


	24. Chapter 24

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 24: Your Work**

The Sara system's star was setting, slipping slowly below the wavering horizon, still hot even in the declining evening temperature. Jim sat very still, watching it depart, from his position atop the cab of a wheat harvesting machine. He sat there, his nine-year-old frame slender in the fading light of the day.

Ignoring his mother's insistence that he wear a jacket at this time of day, Jim had instead elected to only wear a green tank top and shorts, a sharp contrast to the heavy brown work boots on his sock-less feet. She hadn't been unable to stop him, as both his parents were busy discussing a property line problem with the Marshal.

As the sun finally relented and slipped fully beyond the skyline, and the planet became dark, Jim's clothing decision came back to haunt him. A chill wind swept across him and the young boy shivered, gripping his shoulders with both hands to warm them.

On some sort of strange impulse he looked up and felt the air rush from his lungs in a sensory overload. The night sky, cloudless due to lack of large factories in the area, was awash with point of sparkling light. Stars were everywhere, as if a cosmic shotgun had discharged and spread them out across the galaxy.

The sight fascinated Jim much more than the previous sunset had, and immediately kicked his young imagination into overdrive. He stayed there for many hours, dreaming about what he could meet if he escaped the dreariness of his home planet…

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Jim, his fully-grown body covered by a leather jacket and jeans, knew exactly what the stars held: war, greed, man-eating alien parasites, an evil alien empire, and the sneaking suspicion that death was right around the corner. That last thing was something that Jim had come to live with, and even rely on. Having that feeling of angst helped him in combat, forcing him to continually re-evaluate the situation.

As he stepped through the airlock of _The Gunner's Dream_ and into the _Tarsonis'_ entryway, that feeling was at the very edges of Jim's consciousness. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ayanami's pick in friends, but people had betrayed him before. The bitterness of Mana Kirishima's treachery still lingered like a bad aftertaste in the bowls of his mind.

Thinking of the deceased mole made his eyes snap over to where Specialist Tom Jefferies walked three yards in front of him. The Ghost had only recently joined him, and Jim reminded himself to keep an eye on the man. Having one of Jefferies' no doubt countless skeletons come leaping out of the closet at a bad moment could spell the doom of the entire team, something that Jim vowed to not let happen.

Jefferies shifted uncomfortably as he walked, as if something had bothered him.

Jim also reminded himself to keep his thoughts more private.

"Major," a female voice said.

Jim looked over to see Ayanami. She was leaning against a bulkhead, the hem her white medical tee shirt tucked into her dark green cargo pants. She had her hands jammed in her pockets and her pale skin shone in the direct light.

"Hey," he said, extending his hand.

Ayanami reached out and gave him a firm shake, conveying among other things that she was glad to see him. "They've got a pretty good set up here, Jim," she said, "Good company for hitting those Kel-Morian mother fuckers where it hurts."

Jim nodded, looking around at the squad of fully armed Confederate marines covering them as they spoke. "Judging by the guys they got watching the door, I'd have to agree with you," he said.

"I'm sorry for the overly warm reception, Major Goss, but these days I can't afford to take many chances," a new voice said, belonging to a man who had just stepped through the security squad.

This new character wore simple off-duty fatigues, consisting of a jacket and slacks. He looked to be a few years older than Jim, and had the eyes of an intelligent officer. Yet, there was also something terribly familiar about his face.

"Jim, meet the First Combined Squadron's commanding officer, Colonel Bill Jax," Ayanami said, unable to contain a grin.

Nick, who'd been closing up the airlock to the _Dream_, heard Ayanami's introduction and turned to look. Outwardly, his only expressional change was a slight raising of his eyebrows, a pursing of his lips, and a widening of his eyes. These small adjustments spoke absolute volumes about the taciturn, cynical and unfailingly dry Reaper's surprise.

Jim, on the other hand, struggled to get some moisture back into his dry mouth and extended his hand to Bill. "If you're who I think you are, then you should be a pretty stand up guy. Your brother spoke highly of you," he said.

Bill smiled and took Jim's hand. "Yes. If he served with you, then you must be a hell of a guy yourself," the Colonel said, "Ayanami has told me quite a bit about your credentials. We might be able to arrange a slightly better employment for you here than what you're experiencing running that reporter around."


	25. Chapter 25

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 25: Neon Genesis**

General Morganholt sighed as he looked down at the readout in front of him. Having thoroughly decimated the Hackdirt base, Colonel Banner had finally taken the time to do the research on their opponents that Morganholt had requested. Now, Morganholt was relaxing at his large oak desk, sipping from a glass of whiskey as he viewed the bios that Banner had collected from the extensive Kel-Morian Information Database.

The first bio showed the small group's leader. Credited with taking part in the fighting at Mar Sara during the First Korpulu War where he was convicted of going AWOL and dropped down to a private, Jim Goss seemed to be a man who hated established governments. Morganholt had seen his fair share of that kind of person. They were always the most determined rebels, which made him slightly worried, because according to this bio, Jim could be a potent threat.

Took part in the Sons of Korhal raid on the Jacobs Installation, took part in the final push on Tarsonis, joined Raynor's Raiders following the New Gettysburg Incident, fought on Char with Raynor, took part in the defense of Aiur and the destruction of the first Overmind. Following that, Jim had stayed on with Raynor during the Brood War, helping to overthrow the UED's grip on the Sector during battles on Moria, Korhal and again at Char.

After that, Jim had gotten a bit tied up in a war of his own by forming a team known as the Dogs of War. Leading the Dogs in conjunction with an unknown UED captain, Jim had waged a pitched and ongoing battle against Dominion, Protoss and Zerg forces. Eventually, this conflict resulted in the total destruction of Tarsonis, quite an impressive feat for a man who started out as a farm boy on Mar Sara.

Morganholt clicked the slider, revealing a gaunt, smirking face topped by longer-than-regulation hair in disarray. The caption identified the portrait as belonging to a man named Nick McCabe.

Trained as one of the very first Reapers during the Dominion's first prototypes before the Brood War, Nick had quickly been picked due to his hectic childhood. Born on Tarsonis, Nick was raised by various parents, and he was in and out of orphanages constantly. He had become a serial killer by age sixteen, praying on sexual predators and killing them with an array of knives.

When he was caught at age twenty, the Confederate authorities threw him in a jail on the very planet he had terrorized. Upon the Sons of Korhal invasion, Nick managed to escape and was found by Korhal soldiers. After helping out a bit in the terrorists' cause, Nick was given a permanent position in the Dominion military as part of their brand new Reaper Initiative.

After being trained in the use of the sophisticated jumpjets, thrown charges, and dual pistols, Nick promptly went AWOL during a battle against the UED during the preliminary fighting on Braxis at the start of the Brood War. He joined Raynor's Raiders in time to fight his former comrades on Korhal. Following the Brood War, Nick joined up with Jim to become second in command of the Dogs of War.

Pondering these first two people, Morganholt realized that they would be threats if they teamed up with what remained of the Confederate First Combined Squadron. He skipped to the next slide, and was rewarded with one eye staring back at him; the other covered in a black patch. Morganholt dropped his whiskey glass, letting it break against the tough metal floor.

"Shit."

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Jefferies fell in line next to Ayanami as they followed Jim and Bill into the _Tarsonis'_ briefing room. He still had his rifle slung across his back, and he unconsciously checked that its barrel would clear the top of the doorway out of habit. Upon entering, Jefferies could see that something important was about to go down.

A variety of high-ranking officers and enlisted men were present, all standing in a circle around a holo-table. Jim took up position in between Bill and Nick at the far edge of the table, looking down at its glowing display. Jefferies wedged his way into a space between two lieutenants. Ayanami pushed into place next to him, their shoulders touching in the cramped confines.

"Well gentlemen, let's get down to brass tacks," Bill said, punching up a star map on the table.

Jefferies glanced at it, immediately identifying it as a map of the Sector. It was overlaid with a slight green hue where the Kel-Morian Combine controlled it.

"As you may have noticed, the green area is what the Combine controls," Bill explained, "An area consisting of around 26 core civilized systems. That's bigger than what both the Confederacy or the Dominion was capable of doing. Now, that's only taking into account their officially colonized and governed worlds. Their projected area of influence is considerably larger."

At the press of a button, the green area expanded outward to overgrow three quarters of the Sector. A murmur swept around the room, signifying the surprise at just how enigmatic the Combine seemed. Bill waited patiently for the swell to subside before continuing.

"Obviously, overthrowing them won't be an easy task. Thankfully, our trusted ally in the medical field, Miss Rei Ayanami, is continuing Dr. Harris's research for a cure to Terrazine poisoning. If we succeed in curing that, we will have taken away the Combine's greatest asset. But that's only half the battle.

"What we still need is a large enough fleet to overthrow Moria itself. And for that, we need allies. Today, I hope to make the first of many," Bill said, and turned to look at Jim, "Major Goss, would you join us in creating a new genesis for our Sector?"

Jim stared at the table in front of him for a long minute, no doubt mulling things over in his head, before looking up at Bill. "You fucking bet I would."


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: Hey everyone. Quick update, huh? Well, some of you who like Toji might not like what's about to go down in the chapter below, but due to your input it isn't nearly as bad as what was planned for him. Actually, it opened up a lot of other plot avenues that our snotty little reporter will be able to explore. So don't worry: we haven't seen the last of Toji Suzuhara. As always, your thoughts are crucial, so drop me a review if you don't mind. So without pause, here's the batch 26-30. Have fun.**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 26: Abandoning the **_**Dream**_

Toji ducked out of the way to avoid a train of Confederate troops that poured through the airlock and into the _Dream_. He stood fast up against the nearest bulkhead until they had passed, leaving only Jim standing before him in their wake.

"Toji," he started, "We need to talk."

"You're damn right we do!"

Jim sighed. "No, you don't get it. I'm done. You can find someone else to do the security work. We're all leaving," the marine said, "Tell Liberty I'm sorry."

"You leaving?" Ian asked Jim as he walked up behind Toji, his goggles up on his forehead.

"Yeah," Jim said, "Care to join us?"

Ian shrugged. "I don't know…"

Jim tossed him a cigarette pack and a lighter, both of which the helmsman caught without error. Ian lit one of the new smokes and took a quick but contemplative puff. "There more of these over there?" he asked.

Jim nodded.

"Then count me in."

Ian started past Toji, but was stopped as the reporter gripped him by the shoulder. "That's all it took to win you over?!" the Liberty-clone cried, "A fucking cigarette?!"

Ian slammed his balled up fist into Toji's stomach, doubling the man over in a heartbeat. "Just because my standards are low doesn't mean that they're any less valid," he said, speaking around the cigarette.

"Good choice, Ian," Jim said, patting him on the back.

"Not much of a choice, Major. Honestly, I've always wanted to serve on a Battlecruiser. The cigarettes were just a bonus," Ian said, then glanced over at Toji's huddled, wheezing form, "Punching him didn't hurt either."

Jim laughed. "Get your shit packed. We're ditching this tub in five."

"Yes sir," Ian replied, snapping off a smart-ass salute before heading to get his stuff.

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Five minutes and forty-five seconds later, the _Tarsonis_ uncoupled from _The Gunner's Dream_ with a hiss of steam and thud of magnetic locks releasing. The bigger ship turned away from its puny companion and moved out, propelled onward by its massive engines. With relative calm, a warp portal opened up in the space off the ship's bow and let its charge slip through, leaving the converted shuttle and its lone occupant behind in the vacuum of space.

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Jim stepped into Ayanami's medical bay. Bill had graciously loaned it to her for her inquisitive studies into Terrazine gas, and she was pushing its limited and slightly out of date equipment to the max. As Jim entered, he saw her hunched over a workbench with sweat staining her tank top as she toiled with a specimen of skin affected by the poisonous gas.

Her flesh and blood hand tinkered with a pair of pliers, peeling back layers of the infected tissue, while her robotic limb held the sample unwaveringly still. It acted like an industrial clamp and from shaking her hand, Jim knew that it was just as strong as one.

"Hey," she greeted without looking up, "Need something?"

"I can't find Bill. Kinda wondering if you knew where he was," Jim replied, leaning up against the bench next to her.

"Why would I know where he was?" Ayanami countered as she sat down the pliers; "Can you hand me that syringe?"

Jim picked the item up off of a tray next to him and placed it in Ayanami's hand. "Maybe you can answer the question for me," he said.

"Maybe," she agreed absently, occupied by hitting a nerve made dormant by the infection with the precise tip of the needle.

"What's our first objective? Friendly Colonel Jax hasn't quite let me in on it, even though I'm supposed to be in charge of the special forces in this place."

Ayanami finally looked up at Jim. "Well, the first order of business is obviously to get my Terrazine research completed," she explained, "In order to do that, I need samples of the gas itself. In theory, someone's going to have to break into a Kel-Morian production facility and extract the needed equipment."

"That someone will be us, I take it?"

"That's what Bill's been saying," the blue-haired medic replied, turning back to her work, "And I can't imagine anyone else on this ship doing it."


	27. Chapter 27

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 27: Mother Fore**

"What do you think, sir?" Colonel Banner asked, taking up position next to his superior officer.

Morganholt didn't respond immediately, instead pondering the holographic map in front of him for a while longer. Banner looked at the map, trying to make sense of what the General was examining. Beyond a layout of planetary bodies under the influence of the Kel-Morian Combine, Banner didn't see anything much more important.

"Banner," said Morganholt, finally getting around to replying, "If you were a rebel-"

"But I'm not, sir."

Morganholt felt the sudden urge to slap Banner right across his stupid looking resocialized face, but didn't when he realized that the younger man wouldn't learn anything, only apologize and request to be demoted.

"Hypothetically, Banner, hypothetically," he said with great patience.

"Oh," Banner replied, "I understand sir."

Sighing, Morganholt began to repeat his question. "If you were a rebel leader, where would you hit first?"

Banner stared at the map for a long moment before finally answering. "I guess I would attack our Terrazine labs," he said, uncertainly.

"Exactly, Banner. But which one? There are multiple labs all across our controlled systems, so which one?"

"I'm not sure, General," Banner said.

Morganholt locked his eyes with Banner's, squaring his jaw like he was about to shoot the younger man. "Come on. What's the obvious choice?" he pressed.

"Uh, the one that's farthest from reinforcements. So, the Malew II lab?" Banner suggested.

"Correct. Malew II _is_ the most obvious choice," Morganholt said, tapping the Malew System where it hovered at the edge of the map table, "It's isolated, at the very edge of our control area, and at least three days from any reinforcements. Ideal, isn't it?"

"I would say so sir," Banner said, "Do you not agree?"

"No, I don't. See, Banner, we're not dealing with any ordinary rebels. In fact, they're working with some incredible soldiers," Morganholt said, "Which has led me to believe that their attack will not be at Malew II. They know that's where we'll be waiting. No Banner, I think they'll hit us somewhere else. Somewhere they know."

"Where?" Banner pressed, looking at the map.

Morganholt smiled. "At our biggest Terrazine production facility, of course," he said, heading for the exit to the map room, "Lay in a course for the Sara system, Colonel Banner. We have a rebellion to halt."

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"Okay people, load up!" Jim shouted, racking the bolt on his C14 with one massive CMC armored hand.

Confederate troops filed onto the three dropships next to him, their white armor faded at the edges where years of use had worn the paint down to the original steel. Bill had given Jim a pile of files during the warp jump, and Jim had carefully selected the best men possible for the mission at hand. Deeming a small, flexible force acceptable over a massive, cumbersome invasion force, only three platoons were being used.

Jim had only been able to one-on-one interview a handful of the men, but what he had seen of them was impressive. They were all battle-hardened veterans, more than capable of downing the inexperienced Morian garrison. Even if the enemy had more in numbers, they certainly weren't expecting an attack by highly trained and well-armed commandos.

Jefferies stepped up onto the dropship right next to Jim; his customized C10 slung across his back. The one-eyed man would be essential to the upcoming raid and Jim had pestered him about the details quite a bit.

Finally, Jefferies had clarified his competence. "Son, I was slitting throats and infiltrating top-security bunkers before you were even born," he had said, "Don't worry about my abilities."

After that, Jim had let the issue lay. As the last of the marines filed into place, Jim hopped up in after them. He turned to see Ayanami was still out in the assembly bay, suited up but stuck talking with Bill. The former Confederate officer wore a command suit and stood just as tall as Ayanami. By the look on his face, he seemed a bit distressed.

Across the bay, Ayanami shook her head. "Look, Jim's designed this entire mission around speed. In, grab and leave. Assessing the target is my job, so yeah, I need to go."

"But can't you be inserted after the LZ is cleared?" Bill asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. That would invalidate the speed factor," Ayanami said, smiling, "I'll be all right. You're precious researcher won't die just yet."

Bill looked at the floor. "That's not why I'm worried," he said.

Ayanami was about to press the issue when Jim interrupted.

"Would it fucking kill you to be on time once in your life?" he shouted from first platoon's dropship.

"Fuck off, Jim!" she shouted, then turned to Bill, "I'll be back in a bit."

Bill nodded and watched her jog off across the bay to her waiting teammates. He slipped his visor down, sealing his command suit against air leaks, and watched as the doors opened and the trio of dropships headed out into space.

Toward the waiting surface of Mar Sara.


	28. Chapter 28

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 28: Hit the Lights**

Dawn was breaking over the Mar Sara horizon, casting long shadows across the fenced-in refinery grounds. Though it was the largest Terrazine production facility in the Sector, not a whole lot of buildings occupied the site. Aside from the towering main refinery building, there were only a handful of squat concrete buildings containing storage and packing equipment as well as a barracks for the complex's security forces.

Currently, only a few men were out and about, patrolling the grounds in full combat armor. In the event of a crisis, most of them would have to rely on reinforcements from Camp Detrius, which lay seven miles south down a dusty asphalt highway. But Mar Sara lay far enough within Kel-Morian territory that the security team could relax a bit, not needing to worry about being shot at every few seconds.

Needless to say, they were quite surprised when three hostile dropships used the refinery's parking lot as a LZ.

The ramp dropped and Jim ran out onto the cracked pavement, firing from the hip. The two nearest security marines went down in a flurry of spikes before they could even raise their own weapons. Silhouetted against the rising sun, Jim pounded across the open space, a team of screaming Confederates following him with their Impalers barking fire at the dazed guards.

Jim kicked open the door to one of eight security barracks buildings just in time to see a few marines begin to roll out of their steel-railed bunks, reaching for their clothes that lay scattered about the room. Stepping aside, Jim allowed the rest of the squad to enter alongside him and take aim at the sleepy men.

As one, the squad opened fire. Spikes banged through steel and splintered the wooden floorboards. A volley slammed into one of the men, tossing him up against a wall and pinning him there to bleed to death. Bunks were overturned and pushed across the space from the sheer weight of the barrage. Blood splashed across the walls, ceiling and destroyed floor. Jim's own shots ripped a man in half, splaying the target's organs across an overturned dresser.

When every inhabitant of the barracks was maimed and spread across the room in bloody chunks, the squad filed out in an orderly fashion. Jim looked around and saw that the other teams had done the same thing to the other barracks. One man, dressed only in his boxers, ran out of the back of one of the bullet-ridden dorms. He was bleeding, an 8mm spike having splintered his collarbone, allowing an artery to fountain red into the morning air.

Nick appeared from the door after the man, one Scythe pistol in hand. He calmly drew down on the runner and squeezed the trigger once. The panic-stricken guard's head vanished in a pinkish-red spray and his body flopped to the ground in an expanding pool of blood. Nick holstered his weapon and looked to Jim, giving him the thumbs up gesture before returning to his pre-planned work.

Jim engaged his COM link to the platoon team leaders. "Barracks cleared," he said tersely, "Status of objectives?"

"Entrance gate's been taken," sounded Lieutenant Grissom, the man Jim had placed in command of second platoon, "No casualties."

"Third platoon has taken the landing pads," said Master Sergeant Kelso, "Three wounded, one dead."

"Move the wounded onto dropship two. Stick the KIA onto number one," Jim said, then switched over to the link with Jefferies.

A Stinger off road vehicle burst out of the complex's small motor pool, three men seated in it with one on the rear-mounted machinegun. It barreled toward Jim, spurting bullets from the heavy machine gun on its back. With a grunt, Jim threw himself out of the way. The Stinger blew past him without taking him out.

Jim rolled over with his Impaler ready to stitch a series of spikes across the vehicles gas tank, but ended up not needing to.

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Private Dustin Self heard the Stinger coming from behind him and whirled around, bringing his duel wrist-mounted flame-throwers to bear. He engaged them both; spraying the front of the six-wheeled vehicle with twin concentrated blasts of inferno. The driver was cooked alive, the skin of his face literally melting and drooping off his skull under the heat of the blaze.

In death, the driver yanked the wheel around, tipping the notoriously unstable vehicle onto its side. The Stinger slid past Dustin, who followed it with more fire. His continued razing killed the passenger and rear gunner, but also managed to set off the machinegun's ammo supply. As the shells began to cook off and whiz about through the air on random trajectories, Dustin turned away to shield his face.

A bullet collided with the inadvertently exposed napalm tanks on Dustin's big red back, ending the Firebat's life in a burst of brilliant light. The explosion tossed the sliding; burning Stinger off course and into the side of the complex's munitions storage structure. What resulted from this chain of unfortunate occurrences was an explosion that could be seen for miles around.

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Jim sighed as he stood up, using his Impaler to steady himself as he did so. He realized that the explosion of the munitions building would be a smoke signal for the Kel-Morian reinforcements stationed down the road at Camp Detrius. Knowing that the clock was ticking now more than ever, he set off to help Ayanami get into the refinery proper, where with any luck Jefferies would have already found the samples they needed.


	29. Chapter 29

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 29: Sunny Side Up**

The security inside the actual refinery was a bit more attentive than their deceased comrades out side had been, a benefit of having to patrol an area laden with hazardous materials that were being processed into an even more hazardous weaponized form. The urge to not trip and break open a barrel full of Terrazine was a rather strong one, and the security forces were pretty keen not to do so.

That being said, the multi-layered catwalks that ringed the main production floor weren't the sturdiest of places, ruling out the bulky CMC-300 armor. As a consequence, the inner-facility security guards were only wearing bulletproof jackets rated to stop Slugthrowers, not 20mm C10 canister rifle rounds.

And Specialist Tom Jefferies was certainly _not _using a Slugthrower.

Jefferies blew a hole the size of a dinner plate through a guard's chest and watched as the body fell to the ground, calmly reloading his rifle. The catwalk behind him was splashed with blood and bodies of other guards who had stood in between him and his goal: a staircase leading down to the main production floor.

Even as he reloaded the rifle, Jefferies continued walking leisurely forward, acrid tabacco smoke trailing behind him from the cigarette hanging perilously from his lip. Two more security guards emerged from the staircase at the end of the catwalk and aimed their AGR assault rifles at him. They opened fire, filling the air with lead.

Jefferies jumped up onto the railing that ran the length of the walkway, balancing with expert skill. Bullets ripped through the space he had just been, pinging off the floor and careening off into the hollow expanse around the vaulted path. The guards' weapons clacked empty, their bolts jammed back just as the last shell casing tinkled to the grated metal floor beneath the men's boots.

Jefferies slid back down onto the walkway and jacked the slide on his C10, inserting an explosive shell into the chamber. Two bangs later and the brave guards were tumbling down the staircase they had so readily run up, minus their heads. Jogging down the near-vertical stairs, Jefferies entered the main production floor.

A scientist, a man with a tubby stomach that sagged over the top of his belted pants, turned to look at the one-eyed Ghost who had just entered the room. The man's face was whiter than the long coat he wore, and Jefferies didn't notice any weapons on his person.

"Hey," Jefferies greeted in a conversational tone, "Would you fine gentlemen care to point me in the direction of the fully processed Terrazine gas?"

"Uh, sure," the scientist replied.

Jefferies moved his C10 over to his left hand and drew his sidearm, a Ronin pistol he had taken from a UED marine a long time ago, and leveled it at the round, balding man. "Then lead the way," he ordered.

As he followed the scientist along a conveyor belt, he noticed the sound of a massive explosion outside, quickly followed by radio chatter about a munitions building going off.

"What the hell was that?" the scientist asked.

"Keep walking," Jefferies spat, pressing the Ronin into the man's back to illustrate the point, "What's your name anyway?"

"Dr. Theo Algernon," the scientist replied.

"You the only white-coat in this place?"

"Uh, yes," Algernon answered, "You see, this entire facility is for the most part automated. I'm the only human needed in the process, mostly to oversee the equipment."

"So you know virtually nothing about Terrazine?" Jefferies asked.

Algernon barked a short laugh. "Lord no! I'm damned near just a baseline engineer, albeit better paid," he suddenly stopped chuckling, "Wait, I just signed my own death warrant, didn't I?"

"Pretty much."

"Fuck."

"Nice little speech, though."

"Yeah, thanks."

They walked a few more feet before Algernon stopped in front of a door pronounced as 'EXPORTATION DEPARTMENT' by the label above the door.

"This the door?" Jefferies asked.

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Doc."

Jefferies pressed the barrel of his weapon into Dr. Theo Algernon's temple and squeezed the trigger, evacuating the man's brain pan in a vicious explosion of shattered skull. As the body hit the floor, its white lab coat covered in red, Jefferies entered the door in question. Lights automatically flickered on with his entrance, illuminating a room filled with barrels marked hazardous.

"Bingo," he muttered, activating his radio.


	30. Chapter 30

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 30: Ride of the Valkryies**

Jefferies voice crackled into Jim's helmet. "Hey, you want to come get this shit?"

Jim's HUD pinpointed Jefferies as being through a wall halfway back on the eastern side of the main refinery structure. "Nick and Ayanami regroup with first platoon and get to Jefferies' position," Jim said, "You hear that you picky bastard? Help's on the way."

"Thanks much," Jefferies replied, then signed off promptly.

Jim saw Ayanami, Nick and first platoon jog around the southeast corner and out of his sight. A few seconds later he heard a D18 charge explode, quickly followed by Ayanami issuing directions to the whole platoon.

"Colonel Jax to ground team, Jim you there?"

A window blinked open in Jim's visor showing the face of Bill Jax. The Colonel's face was taut with stress and behind him the _Tarsonis_' bridge was in utter chaos. Crewmembers ran back and forth under the harsh glare of the red emergency lighting.

"Something wrong, Bill?" Jim asked, feeling stupid the minute the words left his mouth.

"Yeah. That fleet that destroyed the Hackdirt base and Harmony Platform just showed up in all its sixteen-ship glory. We're trying to fight them, but they've got the orbital space above your position covered," Bill explained, "If you take off in those dropships, they'll blow you out of the air before you can even clear the atmosphere."

Jim frowned, thinking. So the Confederate dropships were no good, invalidating traditional evacuation completely. But, what if…

"Bill, is this a secure channel?"

Bill scoffed. "Not by a long shot," he said, "Why?"

"Never mind. See you in a few," Jim replied.

"What the hell are-"

The line closed with a burst of static, cutting off the rest of Bill's sentence. Jim started moving across the parking lot to dropship two, where Ayanami was overseeing the loading of around a dozen drums of Terrazine gas. Nick stood nearby, his pistols out and head turning back and forth on lookout. Jefferies crouched on the side of the ramp, picking at his teeth absently, as if the situation at hand wasn't all that important.

"Loaded?" Jim asked.

"Damn near," Ayanami replied, "Be ready to return to the ship momentarily."

"Wrong," Jim corrected.

Everyone, including the marines helping with the loading, stopped what they were doing to look at Jim.

"The _Tarsonis_ is compromised. Combine own the airspace, and leaving in these dropships is a no go," Jim explained, "However, that doesn't rule out other dropships."

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Camp Detrius was a sea of moving teal armor as its full complement of one marine company mobilized. It had been scarcely fifteen minutes since the explosion at the Terrazine complex and Detrius' commanding officer had nearly gotten his men together enough to mount a counter attack. The sun was a bit higher in the sky than it had been when the camp had come alive, and the shadows were a tad shorter as the Captain stood up on a rock in front of his troops.

"Okay! Okay! Listen up!" he shouted, getting the men in order enough to pay attention to what he had to say, "Prepare yourselves, comrades! For we are about to launch the attack that will end the rebellious incursion into our territory! Cock your hammers! Go forth, and retake what is rightfully ours!"

The assembled men broke into spontaneous shouts and cheers, hefting their bulky C14s into the air to show their unquestioning devotion to their commander. The Captain, pride welling up within him from his successful speech, turned northward to begin the charge and exploded into a showering of blood, guts and bits of armor from a Gemini missile.

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"Good shot Jefferies!" Jim shouted.

Jefferies pulled himself back into the troop compartment from where he had fired his C10's customized launcher attachment one-handed into the speech-giving Captain.

"Not really, Major," he said, detaching the smoking launcher, "I missed his head."

Jim took his place, soon joined by Ayanami, Nick and a multitude of other marines. Soon, the camp appeared beneath them, overflowing with troops who didn't know what to do without their commanding officer.

"Rip them apart!" Jim bellowed and squeezed the trigger.

Spikes poured down into the crowd, their normal velocity assisted by the universal effects of gravity. Some hit more than one target, and the collateral of enemies going down shooting their buddies on accident only served to help the destruction. Jim fired off three rockets, blasting groups of men to pieces with each shot.

Nick dropped a cluster of D18s, spreading them over the crowd like some form of demonic candy. Ayanami kept her cheek pressed to the stock of her rifle, focusing fire on men who actually seemed to be aiming at the incoming dropship. A few seconds later, the other two dropships arrived, their crews doing the same thing that Jim's people were doing.

Nick started humming over the COM link, a bombastic tune that seemed to fit the occasion. It was a simple melody of 'dum-du-du-du-dum-du-du-du-dum' but it soon caught on. Eventually, the entire attack force was humming it, filling the channel with a chilling chorus. A dropship pilot switched it onto the craft's external speakers, and it boomed out across the morning battlefield, spreading pants-shitting fear into the Morian marines below.

When the last of the Combine marines had fallen, the dropships landed and evacuated everything, including the Terrazine and pilots. Jim pointed to the camp's landing pads, where a quartet of Kel-Morian dropships awaited, wearing the convenient color that would protect them as they exited the atmosphere amid the battle raging space side.

"Okay, people, switch out!" he shouted.

While the cargo was loaded, Jim stepped over to Nick. "Where'd you learn that tune?" he asked.

"An old Siege Tank driver used to hum it, back in the Raiders," Nick explained, "Name was Franks something. Anyway, seemed appropriate."

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As they took off into the morning sky in their new vehicles, Jim was sure that he had never before felt so comfortable with the color teal.


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: Hey, here's a bunch of chapters. Thanks for the constant flow of reviews, and sorry for not replying to them. I'll try and do so more often in the future, but between writing and school work I don't have a lot of time. But seriously, keep it up. I am incorporating a few of the ideas proposed by you guys, so keep your eyes peeled. And I will never apologize for my Firebats. On with the show...**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 31: Hard Landing**

"Don't fucking touch me!"

Jim turned around and looked back into the troop compartment where Jefferies was trying to resist Ayanami giving him a routine post-mission checkup. "Jefferies, you ran through a building used to process and ship a gas that causes people to throw up their lungs," Jim said, "A checkup is more than necessary in this occasion, don't you agree?"

The one eyed Ghost fixed Jim with an icy stare. "Fine, have it your way," he spat, then looked to Ayanami, "Well, hurry up you hack."

Jim turned back to the view outside the six-inch cockpit glass. The baby blue of Mar Sara's familiar skies fell away, leaving behind the inky canvas known as space. A flurry of red laser blasts sizzled past them from left to right. Jim followed their trajectory to see the _Tarsonis_. The Confederate flagship had obviously seen better days.

Fires had broken out across both its wings, and even as Jim watched another laser burst smashed into one of its rear defense arrays. The array went wild, spinning around spitting out bloody streaks off light into the void before finally exploding and leaving behind another point of flame on the old war horse.

Jim looked to the left and immediately wished he hadn't. The same sixteen Kel-Morian Battlecruisers that had wasted Harmony Platform were right there, scarcely nine miles away, their laser arrays spitting burning death at the _Tarsonis_. Jim and his three dropships were right in between the combatants, and the only reason that they hadn't been turned into molten orbital junk was because they'd been mistaken for the marines of Camp Detrius.

"Head for the _Tarsonis_," Jim instructed, realizing that it was only a matter of time before the Morian commander came to his senses and acted.

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Colonel Timothy Banner was a devoted and brainwashed marine, emphasis on the brainwashed part more than anything. In his mind, the color teal was the most righteous color in existence, and anyone wearing it could only be doing something beneficial to his beloved Combine.

So when Banner saw the three dropships heading toward the enemy Battlecruiser, his first and only thought was that his comrades from Camp Detrius were boldly taking the fight to the enemy against all odds. Such a noble sacrifice was something that Banner only wished he could be a part of at that moment. But alas, he was stuck on the bridge of the Kel-Morian flagship and could only watch.

"Uh, Colonel?"

Banner turned to the communications officer, who had a slightly worried look on his face. "Yes?"

"Sir, the dropships are hailing the enemy ship," the officer said, "You might want to hear this."

"Put it on room speakers," Banner ordered, occupying himself with brushing a piece of lint off his uniform sleeve.

The bridge speakers flooded with static, but soon cleared up enough for the message to be heard. "Bill! Bill this is Goss! We're inside the Kel-Morian dropships! Open up the hanger, damnit!"

Rage filled Banner. How dare the enemy soil his beloved teal color with their treacherous actions!

"All ships: burn the dropships! Don't let them land! Concentrate all fire! Do it _now_!"

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The dropship to Jim's left vaporized under the concentrated fire of six Morian laser banks, leaving behind only glittering dust that expanded outward, forming a ghostly semblance of a traditional explosion. Jim pointed ahead at where the _Tarsonis _had just begun to open its hanger doors, two massive steel plates that slowly parted to reveal a slim line of horizontal light from inside the larger ship.

"Our cover's blown! Step on it!" he ordered the pilot.

"Roger that," the space jockey replied.

Jim turned around to see the rest of first platoon lashing down the Terrazine drums even tighter. "Get a hold of something! We're landing hard!"

Another explosion rocked the tiny craft as the right-side dropship suffered a similar fate to its cousin on the far left. This time, though, an engine survived the blast and rocketed into Jim's own dropship. The impact threw them off course, helping them to narrowly evade a laser blast. The red heat took off a tip of their right wing and the pilot had to crank the yoke hard to orient them so that they could fit through the slowly widening gap.

They entered the hanger bay upside down with a flurry of Morian lasers chasing them through. Gravity generated by the larger ship set in and yanked the dropship into the ground on its roof, avoiding yet again vaporizing death. They skidded across the bay, knocking crates, SCVs and smaller aircraft out of the way until they finally came to a grinding, crashing halt against the far wall.

The last thing Jim saw before he was knocked unconscious was the blinking red emergency light mounted on the dropship's ceiling, which was disorientingly below him. Then he smacked headfirst into the cockpit glass, and the world went black.


	32. Chapter 32

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 32: Steel Breeze**

A gentle wind moved among the rows of cold stone, disturbing a scattering of leaves. The leaves, browned by the coming of autumn, blew across the nearest rock marker. They settled on the newly packed dirt, obscuring the name of the deceased who was marked by the stone. A polished dress shoe reached out and moved the leaves aside to let the sunlight warm the chiseled name and accompanying inscription.

Shinso Katsuragi, Loving Father and Devoted Officer.

Retracting her shoe to plant it firmly alongside the other, Captain Misato Katsuragi outwardly appeared to be showing the utmost respect for her dead father. Her black uniform was in order, pressed with great care that morning, and her numerous campaign medals glittered in the cold, Sunday air. Her ceremonial saber was sheathed at her side and the reporters' cameras snapped away greedily taking in the perfect front-page picture: United Earth Directorate War Hero Honors Fallen Father.

But Katsuragi felt no respect for the man who lay buried six feet beneath her polished dress shoes. He was a despicable man who placed the Directorate before everything else, even his two daughters. Katsuragi had no warm childhood memories of her so-called hero of a father. Her memories were filled with images of empty, desolate corridors at their family estate.

Her mother had died giving birth to her younger sister, and Katsuragi had grown up alone. Her father had always been gone and when he was home he had company over constantly, company who saw fit to bore their comrade's daughter with tales of how great her dad was. How many heroic deeds he had preformed.

Katsuragi had listened, and ended up joining the navy when she came of age. She'd been fine with her father, if a bit distant, until she had found out just why he was called a 'hero'. The tales of what he had done during the Battle of Alpha Centauri were crap. He hadn't saved the lives of an entire populous; he had only helped to destroy them in a flash of Directorate-made nuclear fire.

That was when she had learned to hate her father, and that was why she couldn't shed a tear for the man at his own funeral. Of course, she was one of the few people who knew that bit of classified information, and as a consequence she couldn't share it with anyone. That included her younger sister, Rebecca. And that was why Rebecca was kneeling next to her bawling her eyes out.

Fucking great. Now the newspapers would talk about how Katsuragi had stood as a solid person to lean on for her obviously mourning sister.

Not that Katsuragi liked her, either. Rebecca had gone the opposite way than her older sister, electing to become an 'artist'. Katsuragi had translated this as meaning 'struggling scribbler who relied on welfare to keep her going'. At the moment, Katsuragi was very aware of the decapitating ability of the saber on her side. There, a beheading of her own sister. That was just what the media could use. Try and cover that one up with clever editing, fuckers.

But, Katsuragi couldn't do that and she knew it. She had an image to uphold. After all, she was daddy's little war hero. She had carried on the fight even after the first invasion's failure in the Korpulu Sector, even managing to single-handedly destroy the Zerg presence on Tarsonis. But that shit wasn't true, it was all propaganda and Katsuragi knew it.

No one was told about being stranded on Braxis for two years, teaming up with Colonists, making a living as mercenaries, or the fact that she had had help at Tarsonis in the form of the most makeshift team of misfits the galaxy had ever known. Nope, but she was still a war hero somehow.

Katsuragi resisted the urge to spit a wad of phlegm right on the pristine Arlington grass next to her.

"Come on," she whispered to herself, "Just fire off the damn guns."

As if responding to her command, the array of seven riflemen fired off three rounds each, the cracks dry in the chilly autumn air. The band started to play and Katsuragi snapped off the most crisp salute she could muster, sending the photographers into a clicking frenzy wilder than any since the ceremony began.

Returning her hand to her side, she spun on her heel and headed off down the cobblestone path. Along the way, a crowd of people that were friends of her father stopped her. Most of them had moved on from the military into the much more complicated and rewarding world of backstabbing politics, and their handshakes had the false firmness she had come to expect from their type.

"Sorry for your loss."

"He was a great man."

"I feel your pain."

At that last one, Katsuragi looked into the man's eyes and said with all seriousness. "Really? Because I don't."

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Makoto Hyuga leaned up against the hood of the navy-issued black sedan, his uniform so cleanly black that a man could mistake it for deep space at a close enough range. Hands in pockets, he watched as his superior officer descended from the hilltop burial site. He had known Misato Katsuragi for a number of years, so when he saw her perfectly spaced steps, firmly squared-off gait and relaxed face, he knew she was pissed.

She trudged across the blacktop parking lot and yanked open the gull wing passenger door to the sedan. "Let's go," she said tersely.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, hopping into the driver's seat.

As the car hummed its way out of the parking lot, Hyuga began to speak. "I got a call from Admiral Andrews this morning. We're active as of right now."

"Elaborate," she said, not looking away from the scenery outside her window.

"Operation Yashima. Objective: overthrow Korpulu Sector Terran governmental faction known as Kel-Morian Combine. Only one ship is being sent, most likely due to thin resources from the fighting in the Centauri Systems. We'll be cut off from the command structure and expected to act fully independent of any supervision."

Katsuragi looked at him. "We're going back to the Korpulu Sector?" she asked, eyebrows raising.

"Yes ma'am," Hyuga said, "And you know what's better?"

She shook her head.

"The ship we're using," Hyuga said, pointing out the front window.

Katsuragi followed his gesture just in time for the car to reach a rise in the road, revealing the Washington Space Port. It had been cleared because of this new operation, and only one vessel was left in its numerous clamps. Shining sleek and predatory in the sun was the form of a scaled down Battlecruiser. A new main ship weapon jutted out of its bow a little ways, making it appear oddly overpowered. Its hull was gleaming with a new coat of black paint, just recently applied.

And there, stenciled along the starboard-side bow, was the name _Shogoki_.


	33. Chapter 33

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 33: Photographs and Memories**

Jim opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling. He was out of his armor, as its squeezing, reassuring presence wasn't felt on his skin. This, coupled with the fact that he didn't know where he was, sent shivers of anxiety up his spine. He felt naked and exposed without the armor, and there was an overwhelming sense that he would die if anything attacked him.

"Oh, you're finally awake," a female voice said, accompanied with the appearance of Ayanami's face above him, "Don't move, Jim. Your head's still a bit rattled from the impact. I'll message Bill and tell him you're here."

"Where am I?" he asked, ignoring her advice and choosing to sit up on his cot.

He immediately regretted doing so, as a burst of sparks fluttered across his vision, accompanied by a throbbing at the back of his skull. With a groan, Jim sank onto his back again, once more looking up at the ceiling.

"You're in the _Tarsonis_' medical bay. And you have a concussion, so obey me and don't fucking move!"

"Don't need to tell me again," Jim mumbled.

Ayanami padded across the room and picked a bottle up off of her workbench. As she was measuring the dosage, Bill entered the room.

He walked over to Jim and held out his hand. "That was damn fine work you did, Jim. Damn fine."

Jim meekly reached up and shook the other man's hand. Bill looked like he had just gotten out of a shower, and his hair was still wet at the edges. For some reason, Jim thought he looked all too clean to be running a rebellion.

"Who didn't make it?" Jim asked.

"The second and third dropships didn't make it," Bill said, losing some of the happiness from his face, "But thankfully your dropship made it through with the goods and now we can look forward to a cure!"

"Yeah. If I can figure it out." Ayanami said as she walked over with a cup of liquid, "Jim, gulp this down."

Jim feebly took the offered glass and swigged down its contents, wincing at the bitter taste that enveloped his buds. "Shit, Ayanami," he groaned, "What'd you give me?"

"Sodium phosphate-based neural stabilization cocktail. Essentially, a bunch of shit mashed together to heal your noggin," she explained, retrieving the cup from Jim and tossing it in a disposable materials container.

"So now what?" Jim asked Bill.

"Well, taking down the Combine means dealing with Moria whether we like it or not. Its their homeworld, and like the old adage goes, if you lop off the head of the snake-"

"Then the body dies."

"Precisely," Bill said, beaming, "However, this ship alone is hardly enough to take that planet. Since we left Mar Sara, I've compiled a list of possible allies that could assist us."

Bill pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Jim, who opened it up and read the names. "You do realize that these are all rabidly fanatical political organizations, right?" he asked, handing the paper back to Bill.

"Yes, but after I talk to them, I believe they'll change gears and rally under my banner," the former Confederate replied.

"You're sure of yourself," Ayanami observed from where she leaned against the foot of Jim's bed, arms crossed, mechanical over flesh.

Bill favored the blue-haired medic with a warm smile and a firm hand on the shoulder. "That's my job, Rei," he said.

Jim silently watched the encounter. The only person he'd ever seen call Ayanami by her first name like that had been the late Gabriel Kahn, and that had been because they were in a relationship. For Bill to use it now seemed…out of place. Jim was a typically blunt kind of guy and normally he would have just come right out and asked about the situation.

However, being under the influence of a slightly trippy drug made him thing twice. Instead, he devoted all his attention to making another attempt at standing. This time, he succeeded, albeit wobbly, and made his way toward the exit to the medical bay.

"Oh, and Jim?" Bill called.

Jim rested a steadying hand on the doorframe and turned to the higher-ranked officer. "Yeah?"

"Jefferies was looking for you. I told him to wait for you at your quarters."

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Jefferies saw Jim come ambling up, obviously unsteady, and held out a hand. Jim ignored it and pressed his thumb to the pad to the right of the door. Upon Jim's entrance, the lights automatically switched on. He limped for the bathroom immediately.

"Jefferies, whatever you need to talk to me about can wait until after I take a shower. Right?" Jim asked.

"Absolutely," the old Ghost nodded.

Without another word, Jim disappeared into the bathroom; the door sliding shut behind him. After a second, Jefferies heard the water running. With nothing to do, Jefferies took a look around Jim's quarters. Upon moving in from the now-abandoned _Gunner's Dream_, Jim had unpacked all his possessions. At the foot of a basic navy-issue bed was his footlocker, painted in a faded olive drab with Jim's name stamped neatly in one corner.

Jim's desk had been slid out from a slit built into the wall. In his years of service, Jefferies had classified most people into two categories concerning quarter desks. One type used the desk and then slid it back into place, while the other always kept it out against the rarely enforced regulation concerning the desks as a combat hazard.

Judging by the framed pictures on Jim's desk, Jefferies guessed that the Major was part of the latter group.

Jefferies stepped over to the desk and took a closer look at the pictures. The first one was of Jim and three people he assumed were his mom, dad and a little brother. Both the parents were wearing typical fringe-world farming attire and were also very thin, while the little brother sported a play army helmet and camo shorts. Jim wore a marine uniform and judging by the lack of any decorations, he had just graduated basic when the picture was taken.

The second picture showed an older Jim crouching in front of a crowd of people, sporting a leather jacket, jeans and a gun belt. Behind him was Nick, wearing a similar get-up to his friend. On Nick's right side was Ayanami, sporting two biological limbs sticking out of a white tee shirt. Next to her was a dark-haired man wearing a Ghost's stealth suit, with his arm wrapped loosely around Ayanami's shoulders in a loving embrace.

Behind the young Ghost was the towering frame of a Protoss Zealot, complete with shining golden armor. Next to the Zealot, and therefore right behind Nick, was a marine in white Confederate armor looking off to the side at something that was decidedly more interesting than the flashing camera. Alongside the stupid-looking soldier were two people in UED uniforms, one a young man in spectacles and the other a striking woman with captain's bars on her shoulders.

At the very bottom of the picture, beneath Jim's right elbow, was a diminutive Probe holding up a sign in its grav field proclaiming 'The Dogs of War' in grand capital letters.

Jefferies looked at the last picture, which simply showed Jim's armored form from the back as he looked out over a early-morning landscape. At his side was a woman in Ghost armor, red hair tumbling down and ending just above the small of her back. Her head was turned a tad toward Jim, and Jefferies caught just a glint of her blue eyes.

The shower shut off, and Jim emerged a minute later with a towel wrapped around his waist. Jefferies promptly turned toward him, and in a calm, conversational tone asked.

"So you know Soryu."


	34. Chapter 34

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 34: Can't Do It, Captain**

The doors slid open and Katsuragi stepped onto the _Shogoki_'s bridge for the first time in five years.

After Tarsonis' destruction, the Dogs of War dispersed by mutual consent. Jim, Nick and Ayanami stayed in the Korpulu Sector, while Katsuragi and Hyuga returned to Earth. Upon returning they were debriefed for six weeks and updated on the changes to the Directorate, namely the desperate lack of a significant space fleet.

The complete decimation of two invasion fleets had left the UED with little in the way of naval power, a fact that many people opposed to the idea of totalitarianism were quick to exploit. For the past half of a decade, the Directorate had been fighting in what was being called the Second Centauri War, where rebels had been trying to oust control of their lives.

Katsuragi had been given control of many ships always with Hyuga at her side as first mate. She managed to score a slew of victories over the rebels, earning herself a second Crux De Valor for her troubles.

With that proof of her skills and a well-known knowledge of the target area, it was clearly evident why she had been chosen for this one-ship insertion into the Korpulu Sector. Damn good thing, in her opinion. The way Katsuragi figured it she had about six months left before she was arrested for Thought Crime against the state.

That being said, too many things had changed on the _Shogoki_'s bridge for her to be satisfied. There were now three main screens in the place of the original one and the tactics table sat to low to be used effectively as a duel-purpose coffee table. Katsuragi poked at her command chair with the sheathed point of her saber and noted that it was definitely too soft for her liking.

But what was even worse was the amount of crewmen crammed into the normally spacious room. Uniformed men and women scurried in every direction, none of which were above ensign rank, and the entire room reeked of body odor.

Katsuragi didn't like that either. Her bridge shouldn't have smelled like body odor. It should have smelled like inadequately filtered air.

"What do you think, ma'am?" Hyuga asked.

Katsuragi looked at him; her face relaxed in a complexion that to anyone who knew her would display her inner rage clearly. Hyuga knew her well, and therefore knew that the new engineer couldn't have possibly walked in at a worse time.

"Hi Captain Katsuragi!" the woman said cheerfully, "I'm Dr. Samantha Atari!"

Katsuragi looked at the engineer's outstretched hand and shook her head.

This only set Dr. Atari back a fraction of a second and her happy demeanor quickly returned. "I'm so glad to have this opportunity bestowed upon me by our great Directorate! This ship is just so incredibly amazing! I read all about you in your book, and I think we'll get along great! You are a true hero to our great Directorate!"

As part of the bullshit story, Katsuragi had been required to write a book for the general public concerning the events that transpired during her three-year stay in the Korpulu Sector. The decision to have someone else write it had been made even before the government proofreader had reached the third joke about Jax's intelligence.

However, she was supposed to act like she actually wrote the damn thing.

"Awesome," she managed, "I noticed you introduced yourself as doctor. Are you by chance a civilian?"

"Yes Misato! I was on the discovery team that designed and manufactured the plasma-based photon reactor that is being used in this vessel!" Atari exclaimed.

Hyuga, watchful as always, noted that Katsuragi's hand tightened considerably on the hilt of her dress saber. She leaned in to the younger Atari. The engineer did the same, as if expecting some incredible secret to be revealed to her by the woman who she no doubt viewed as her new best friend.

"Look, bitch," Katsuragi began as diplomatically as possible, "You call me by anything less than Captain or ma'am one more time, and I'll cleave your head from your shoulders and toss your decapitated body in that new reactor you love so much. You read me, you brainwashed civilian?"

Atari turned whiter than her lab coat and her eyes shrunk behind the slim-rimmed glasses she wore. "I read you perfectly Captain," she squeaked.

Katsuragi backed off, smiling a thin, humorless smile. "I'm glad. Now run along and calibrate some instruments or something."

As the engineer ran from the bridge, Hyuga looked back to Katsuragi from where he'd been expertly pretending to examine a holo-tablet.

"That was a bit harsh, ma'am," he said.

"No," she replied, dropping the smile, "What I'm about to have you do is even worse."

Hyuga slid his glasses up further on his nose. "Would it have anything to do with the amount of crewmembers on this bridge?" he said, venturing a guess.

The smile returned to his superior's face. "Dead on, Lieutenant. Dead on."


	35. Chapter 35

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 35: A Fistful of Answers**

The air conditioner clicked off, taking away the only sound that had filled Jim's quarters for the past two minutes. What was left was a silence thick enough to be cut with a knife and served on small plastic plates. Jim's two eyes were fixed on Jefferies' single one in an intense, narrowed, stare. Jefferies looked back at him with complete calm on his features, looking as if he'd just stated that the weather was nice.

"Start talking. Fast," Jim finally said, his voice like a stabbing wound to Jefferies' silence-adjusted ears.

"What about?" Jefferies asked.

"You know damn well what about."

"Not really."

Silence returned as Jim thought through how to go about the situation. After a second, he continued.

"You mentioned Soryu. A woman in that picture right over there. A woman who I haven't seen since she saved my skin six years ago on Tarsonis. Now, I want you to explain it before I lose my cool," Jim said, carefully spacing his words in a clear, concise and easy to understand cadence.

Jefferies nodded. "Okay, fine. I was a Ghost under the Confederacy for a long time, taking part in some of the most famous assassinations in history. As well as the typical insertion ops, but those are comparatively dull in conversation, huh Jim?"

"Get to the point," Jim hissed.

"Okay, okay. Can't even humor a bit of rambling," Jefferies muttered, "After a while, the higher ups decided they had a better purpose for me. I was sent back to Tarsonis, where they gave me control over the construction of a brand new training facility for Ghost recruits. What resulted was what I still consider to this day to be the greatest training camp for Ghosts ever made."

Jefferies paused, then when he saw that Jim's stare hadn't weakened, continued. "They gave me a job in the training process."

"At the new camp?" Jim asked.

"No. I was only to train the very best of what came out of that camp. Usually, I took a trainee and they'd be with me for six months. One-on-one training tailored for that individual, designed on the spot to sculpt the greatest soldier possible. I'm not much for bragging, but some of the best Ghosts you've never heard of were trained under me."

"And Asuka was one of those," Jim said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, she was the first kid I tried to train side-by-side with another student," Jefferies said, reaching up unconsciously and touching the patch over his left eye with a delicate gesture.

The door buzzer rang. "What?!" Jim shouted, startled by the interruption.

The door slid open, revealing an ensign who was clearly shaken by Jim's angry greeting. "Uh, Major Goss? You're needed in the communications room."

"What?" Jim asked, pissed that he had to quit this close to all the answers he wanted about Asuka's past.

"Colonel Jax's exact words were 'make it double fucking quick'."

Jim sighed and picked up a shirt, which seemed to be enough for the ensign to take his leave. He pulled on his typical off-duty clothing and headed for the door, followed closely by Jefferies. The two men entered the hallway in silence, turning in different directions.

"To be continued," Jim promised over his shoulder.

Jefferies said nothing as he walked off.

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Bill's face as Jim entered looked worried. It was the same look that his younger brother had used whenever a poker game turned south and he started to lose money. Jim opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Bill beat him to it.

"The anchor for Liberty News Network is on the line. He's asking for you."

Jim cursed beneath his breath and picked up the headset Bill offered to him.

"Yeah Liberty?" Jim asked.

"Jim, what the fuck!? You kidnapped him?!" Michael Liberty's voice fumed at him, "I thought leaving him there would be bad enough, but you had him radio in that he was left behind and then took him away!"

"Whoa, whoa. Mike, all I did was leave him there."

"I sent out people that said the _Dream_'s abandoned! If you didn't take him, than who did? Huh?"


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: Hey, new update. Hooray. Some stuff happens in here that should be exciting. I'm not really sure if it will or not, so let me know if you've got the time to hit that little review button. Remember, all author's love reviewers. Hopefully, I'll even get my shit together and respond to them. I really need to get on top of that....anyway, on with the show!**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 36: The Trial**

Jim sat in the cantina on the _Tarsonis_ at a small steel table in the corner. There was no drink on the table, as Jim had never really been a big fan of that particular habit. However, he was clearly far from a saint as evidenced by the near-filled pack of cigarettes before him. Presently, one of the thin white tubes was dangling between his fingers.

It had all but completely been converted to ash, leaving behind a stub. On the cantina's television was the Kel-Morian News Network, alternately known as both 'Bullshit Central' and 'The Boring One'. Why it was on was beyond Jim, but he was watching it nonetheless. No one else was in the place, so he could have changed it if he really wanted to.

Not changing it would be something Jim Goss would regret for a long time.

_"And in other news, General Stephan Morganholt of the 3__rd__ Interstellar Security Fleet has captured one of the rebels associated with the action two days ago at Mar Sara. We now go live to the front, where General Morganholt is about to carry out the sentence as proclaimed by Article 17B of the Company's policy book."_

At the mention of the Mar Sara raid, Jim sat forward with renewed interest. The spick-and-span Combine reporter faded away, and in his place was the desolate looking interior of a Battlecruiser's cargo hold. Two Morian marines trooped into the hold, holding between them in steel gauntleted hands the fragile form of Toji Suzuhara.

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Toji stood on wobbly legs, looking at the marines around him through blood-smeared vision. He had just gotten off the horn with Mike when the Kel-Morians had shown up. They'd blown through the airlock and chased him down, eventually cornering him in the bridge. After capturing him, they'd tortured LNN's headquarters location out of him.

Following that, they had held a military trial and found him guilty of breaking a whole slew of laws. Which, in accordance with his sentence, would be read aloud for the cameras in a few moments.

A man with the nametag Morganholt and a General's rank stepped forward, looking totally displeased with the situation at hand. Maybe Toji was hallucinating from the Stim packs that had been used to loosen him up during the interrogation, but he could have sworn the General's impassive face actually frowned.

"Toji Suzuhara, you have been convicted of treason, conspiracy to commit treason, being an accomplice in sabotaging Company equipment, murder, and multiple counts of openly promoting free will. Punishment is death by firing squad to be carried out immediately," read Morganholt, "Boys, get him into position."

The two marines holding Toji muscled him up against the nearest wall and left him alone, taking care to get out of the firing area. Six more marines stepped forward, Impalers held at their shoulders.

"Ready!" a younger man, probably Morganholt's second-in-command, shouted out, "Aim!"

Morganholt still hadn't taken his eyes off Toji, even as he had moved back out of the way. "Do you care to say anything before the sentence is carried out?"

"Toji Suzuhara for LNN news. Back to you, Mike," he recited dully, as it was the only intact phrase he could remember after the Combine's brutal interrogation.

It was a fitting epitaph for a man who had lived his entire adult life in the pursuit of telling people what was what in a fair and unbiased manner.

"Fire!"

One of the marines fired at the beginning of the command word, exactly one hundred milliseconds before the rest of his teammates. The spike hit Toji in his left shoulder, ripping the limb off in a spray of vivid red. The impact kicked Toji around so that he could see his own arm pin up against the hold's wall, wiggling as if to wave goodbye to its former owner.

Then the rest of the spikes hit him in the back, ripping clear through in jets of blood, skipping Toji forward a foot. His feet touched ground and he wobbled before falling on his back, looking up at the cargo hold's lights as his life fluid pooled around him. Then the darkness closed in and Toji Suzuhara slipped away into the embrace of death.

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The on-screen image flicked back to the anchorman, who was still smiling the same cardboard smile. _"Now how fantastic was that? Corporate justice in action, friends. In other news, Terrazine production is at its peak despite the rebels efforts on Mar Sara. Next, we go to the lower districts of Moria, where Company rations have been increased exponentially. Tom?"_

Jim cursed under his breath. He'd left Toji on _The Gunner's Dream_ to get back at him for all his bitching. He'd never once wished anything more than a little bit of loneliness on the reporter. But hindsight had made his mistake clearly visible in typical 20/20 fashion.

In Jim Goss' mind, the options for correcting this issue were slim. In fact, there was only one real option: kill Morganholt himself. Preferably at close range with a sharp object, so he could see the man's eyes roll over in death. The fact that the general in question was in charge of the fleet chasing them only served to streamline the task.

Jim put out his cigarette and stood, heading to speak with Bill about the strategic problem of getting back at the Combine motherfucker.


	37. Chapter 37

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 37: Goodbye Blue Sky**

Katsuragi eased back into her chair, coffee in hand, and propped her feet up on the tactics table. One of the many pre-launch changes she'd made recently was to raise the improvised foot rest a full two feet, effectively making it the coffee/junk table she preferred it to be. Hyuga had gotten rid of the unnecessary bridge crewmembers and the rest of the ship had been stripped down to facilitate a small number of operational personnel.

That was one of Katsuragi's secrets to commanding: a skeleton crew was a help, not a hindrance.

After losing most of her original crew during the long months on Braxis, she had been forced to work with a small amount of people. In the end, it had worked as an advantage that she stood by to the present day.

Typically, she had the same crew throughout her different commands. Normally she had a German engineer named Karl Engelhorn, but the experimental nature of the revamped _Shogoki _rendered his services useless. Instead the snot-nosed college brat known as Dr. Samantha Atari had replaced him, much to Katsuragi's chagrin.

Traditionally, she didn't have a detachment of ground troops, since most of her work had centered on space combat. In fact, she hadn't run a troop insertion mission since her Dogs of War days. But with wreaking havoc being the main objective in the upcoming operation, a ground team was a must. And the Directorate had been only happy to oblige her with a combat force as experimental as the ship they would live in.

They called themselves the Black Dove Platoon and had earned enough respect to be recognized as such. Led by a charismatic lieutenant named Rika Horaki, the Doves were considered the crème-de-la-crème of UED Special Forces.

They sported power armor that was slimmer than the bulky variants worn by frontline marines, yet they could still stand up to a hefty amount of damage. The added flexibility of their armor and the addition of experimental laser rifles made the Doves a good mid-point between assault troops and Ghosts. They were perfect for hitting fast and hard, which was strangely enough the entire doctrine Katsuragi would employ during the upcoming months.

When the Black Dove Platoon had arrived on board, Katsuragi had gone down and introduced herself to Lieutenant Horaki. The following conversation had been both awkward and strained, almost breaching the 'how about that weather?' marker of shitty interactions. It was bad enough to make Katsuragi almost want to go and talk to the ignorant Dr. Atari.

Well, almost.

In any event, there was a schedule to keep. A schedule that required the _Shogoki _en route to the Korpulu Sector by 1900 hours, and Katsuragi was quite keen to beat that by at least one hour. "Hyuga, take us out," she instructed, taking a sip from her coffee.

Hyuga grinned wolfishly as he input instructions into his helm console. The tactical cruiser's photon reactor-powered engines hummed to life, glowing a strange blue across the Washington space ports' employees. The docking clamps released and the _Shogoki _disengaged the power cables and safety lines attached to it, floating free over the tarmac.

"Ma'am, permission to break protocol?" Hyuga asked over his shoulder.

Katsuragi looked at her coffee cup and deduced that it was low enough to endure the proposed action without spilling. "Permission granted, lieutenant. Let's see what she can handle with this newfangled power plant."

The engines kicked into overdrive, blasting the ship straight up. Its frame rocked and rattled with the force of the acceleration. A resounding bang echoed across the planet below as they shattered the sound barrier.

Soon, the trio of view screens displayed the blackness of the exosphere. Hyuga eased the ship into an out-system vector without any instruction and soon they were coasting by the man-made orbital defense ring that encircled the world responsible for human evolution. The ring bristled with anti-ship weapons, and every two hundred miles there was a gun capable of burning through a capital ship.

Every time Katsuragi saw the emplacements she was overcome with a sense of awe at the ongoing engineering project that had created the ring. They still had a large portion to arm and coat with plating, but it would still be a daunting task to attack it.

"Warp computer has completed its calculations, ma'am," Hyuga sounded, "We can jump on your command."

Katsuragi took one last look at the planet she'd been born on, its vibrant green continents, its deep blue oceans and swirling white clouds that overlaid it all, casting long black shadows gently across the surface.

It was all quite disgusting, really.

"Engage," she said, making a little forward motion with her hand.

As the _Shogoki _slipped through the warp portal, Katsuragi felt fine. Earth had gotten boring. The Directorate didn't even allow smoking, and Katsuragi had been craving a cigarette for six whole years. Getting back to the freedom of the Korpulu Sector was going to be a blessing. The risk of death was a mere afterthought.


	38. Chapter 38

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 38: Solo Sojourn**

"Please keep your arms at your sides for the duration of the transition. Try to refrain from dicking with any of the instruments, don't discharge your weapon during the flight, and above all, never open the fucking hatch," Ian explained as he helped Jefferies into the warp pod.

Jefferies groaned as he lay down, spreading his feet to the very bottom of the seven-foot long pod. "Ian, I used these things when they were still in the our-bad-if-you-disintegrate phase," he told the younger man, "I know not to open the hatch."

"Just making sure," the helmsman replied as he passed the Ghost his C10 canister rifle.

Jefferies slid the weapon in alongside him, tucking it close to his body. He checked instinctively to make sure that his sidearm was holstered at his thigh, and he could feel the psi-knife sheathed comfortably around his ankle. His goggles were strapped to his forehead. With a flick he slipped them down into place and cycled through the various vision modes.

While he was in thermal, he noticed Jim and Bill standing outside the door of the emergency airlock Ian had chosen for the slip operation. With his limited telepathy, Jefferies could make out what they were saying.

"Look, I know you're hot. I would be too if a guy I knew just got killed on Sector-wide TV. But look, we can't go off half-cocked like that."

"Why not!?" Jim shouted, "We know who he is now! The third security fleet, right? That's who's been following us?"

"Well yes, but-"

"Then let's do it! General Morganholt. That's what the report said. General Morganholt is the name of the guy in charge over there! Let's go kill him and get this over with!"

"Jim, he has sixteen ships versus our one," Bill reasoned, "You're a smart officer. If we were to fail and get splattered all over space, as we most certainly would, then who would get the rebellion together, huh? A bunch of spirits?"

Silence.

"You know I respect you, Jim. But look, our first priority should be to gather strength. That's why we're in route to Korhal, and that's why we're sending Jefferies out on an assignment like this. The time will come for revenge. Just have some patience."

After a moment, the door opened and Jim walked in to see Jefferies sitting in a squat-looking torpedo. It was a Mk. II warp pod, designed to launch from a larger ship that was already in warp. The idea behind it was long-range stealth insertions, done at the high risk of losing the occupant to external strains on the miniscule craft.

Over the years, most of the problems with warp pods had been fixed. But it was still amazing that Jefferies had agreed to carry out the mission.

"Everything good here?" Jim asked Ian.

The kid replied without taking his eyes off the calculations on the holo-tab in front of him. "Yeah, I'm almost done with these figures. You can jump him whenever, really."

Jim nodded and looked to Jefferies, opening his mouth for an order. He was quickly cut off.

"You're going to ask me if the mission is clear," Jefferies said, "It is. I warp into deep space where the derelict science vessel _Eden_ is waiting. I board the ship and scout it in advance of you guys, who in all probability should score some converts to the cause while you're on Korhal. If anything goes awry, I radio you guys."

"Yeah," Ian muttered, lighting a cigarette, "And you'd better hope nothing does go awry. Korhal's really fucking far away from your destination."

"Good luck, Specialist," Bill said, holding out his hand, "Try and find us something."

"It's Jefferies, sir," the Ghost replied, shaking the offered hand, "Just keep the lines open, okay?"

"Sure thing."

Jefferies lay back and slid the hatch closed. Ian, Jim and Bill cleared the airlock and sealed the door behind them. A minute later, they jettisoned the warp pod and sped onward, leaving it and its lone passenger to barrel forward towards its destiny.

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Morganholt leaned back in his desk chair, rubbing his eyes with two fingers. Paperwork had claimed his evening as its own, and he had only just finished after a full five hours. Everything from post-execution forms to ammo requests to a report on the action his fleet had seen at Mar Sara last week. With no leads on where the Confederate rebels were heading to next, he'd had some down time.

Looking around his cabin, Morganholt saw a collection of artifacts from his long military career. By far his most valued possession was an Impaler given to him by the Combine board of directors for the liberation of a small mining colony. Its stock, rear and fore grips were all made out of solid oak wood, giving the weapon a uniquely antique feel.

That was back when the Kel-Morian Combine's name still held a shred of honor. Morganholt sighed at the thought and took a sip from his glass of whiskey. Setting the glass back down, he looked at the star chart above his desk, trying to discern the next action of the hated rebels.


	39. Chapter 39

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 39: Gathering Intel**

At the very edge of the Korpulu Sector lay a region dotted by deep space satellites, meant to keep watch for any possible invaders. The network was first set up by the Dominion during the four years of relative peace in between the Brood War and the Second Korpulu War. When the Zerg overran the Dominion at the onset of the latter conflict, the satellites were all but forgotten.

It wasn't until after the joint Protoss and Terran invasion of Char and subsequent destruction of the Zerg that the network was even thought of again. With the Protoss tribes descending into war with each other, and the Umojan Protectorate even more isolationist than ever, the Kel-Morians had annexed as many worlds as possible. Part of their expansion had been to take over the border grid.

So, when the _Shogoki_ exited warp space directly in the middle of a scanned region, Combine sensors had immediately picked it up. Katsuragi had acted quickly, instantly capturing one of the Wraith-sized satellites. With it safely tucked away in the cargo bay she had set Dr. Atari loose on it with instructions to figure out everything about it.

She'd given the assignment at 0900. Atari had the full report typed and on the tactics table by lunch. No matter her flaws, Katsuragi had to give the kid props for being prompt.

After giving the document a quick once over-meaning she skipped the useless technological babble-Katsuragi learned that the satellite had given them a detailed map of Kel-Morian occupied planets. Besides that, it also gave them a map of the other of its kind, helping the _Shogoki_ to avoid any other incidents involving detection.

With all that in mind, Katsuragi had thanked Dr. Atari before ordering the destruction of the helpful hunk of metal. Successfully past the surveillance zone, the ship had entered warp, bound for what Katsuragi had planned for their first target.

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Jim jumped down into the trench, narrowly missing a rocket by the space of a helmet. The servos in his leg armor absorbed the shock of landing just as the rocket smashed into the building behind the trench, blowing bits of steel and concrete in all directions. The debris rained down on the platoon of marines around Jim, electing curses out of a good majority.

"Fucking great," he spat. They'd been on Korhal for all of a minute and already they were getting shot at.

"Dropships are clear," Nick said as he jogged up, pistols in hand, "The _Tarsonis_ is hovering sixteen miles out of the city."

Jim nodded, and took a peak over the top of the trench. Twenty yards away from them there was a bombed out building, its roof collapsed and two of its four walls caved inward. Standing in the entrance to one of the still intact walls was a Marauder, its armor painted yellow. Two marines, also in yellow, flanked the behemoth, protecting it from side attacks.

One of them fired and a spike imbedded itself in the dirt next to Jim's face. He ducked back down without pause, just in time to evade the rest of the burst.

"Platoon status?" Jim asked over the radio.

"Second squad here! Two dead, one wounded!"

"Third squad fine!"

Nick looked around at the men immediately surrounding them. "First squad looks alright," he reported.

"Yeah, I see that," Jim said, then switched radio channels, "Spec ops lead to over ship."

Bill's face appeared in his HUD. "It's 'mother ship', not 'over ship'," he instructed.

"Whatever, Bill. All these codenames blow anyway," Jim replied.

"God damnit! Now they all know my name!" Bill fumed.

"So?" Jim countered, "Aren't we supposed to be looking for allies or something? Shouldn't they find out somehow?"

Bill tried a few times to say something, then settled on a sigh. "What do you need, Jim?" he finally asked.

"Air support would be nice," Jim said, moving to take a peek over the trench again, "We're kind of in a pinch."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. But some damn faction's got AA defenses set up all around the city, so air support's a no go," Bill said, "You'll just have to figure something out on your own. Any friendly factions yet?"

"You really think he'd be asking for air support to deal with friendly factions?" Nick put in from where he stood next to Jim.

"Fuck you," Bill replied, "Jim, just keep me posted, okay?"

"Sure thing, mother goose."

"It's mother ship!"

"Whatever."

Bill signed off and Nick tapped Jim on the shoulder. "How are we going to take care of that Marauder?" he asked, knowing full well that a frontal assault would cost far too many lives to be a realistic option.

"I think I've got it," Jim replied with a grin, "Take a look."

Nick poked his head above the trench and instantly his eyes were drawn to the new soldier standing alongside the marauder, and more importantly, the red tank it had on its back.


	40. Chapter 40

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 40: Alliances**

Nick was, first and foremost, a Reaper. As such, he was expected to be a very accurate shot by his very nature, as hitting targets with a Scythe pistol from far away wasn't a feat most people could accomplish. So when Nick bellied up to the trench side and steadied his shot with both hands, he was reasonably sure that the Firebat standing next to the troublesome Marauder didn't have long to live.

"Platoon, get ready!" Jim shouted along the trench.

Nick slowly applied force to the trigger, easing it closer and closer to the release point. The pistol bucked in his hand, throwing the slide back and kicking out an empty casing, a minor and unimpressive action that was far surpassed by what resulted from it.

The Firebat, like so many before him, exploded. The ensuing fireball engulfed the two walls that remained standing, knocking them over in spectacular showers of splintered debris. The two marines standing guard around the Marauder were instantly crushed, while the dust obscured the primary target itself.

"Go! Go! Go!" Jim shouted, jumping past Nick and running across the twenty yards of open ground between the trench and destroyed building.

The rubble of the destroyed city set loosely beneath Jim's boots, and caused him to stumble as he ran. This didn't hold him or the rest of the platoon back much, however, and soon he was standing above the wounded Marauder. The collapsing building had dropped a concrete slab on the man, pinning him on his back against the muddy earth.

His helmet was off and he looked up at Jim pleadingly, the word 'please' on his lips.

Jim rammed his psi bayonet into the immobile soldier's heart, slicing through three inches of armor in the process. He retracted it, allowing a fountain of blood to spray out of the newly opened wound. Stepping past the dying man, Jim moved over the rubble of the destroyed building, stepping out onto a broad avenue.

Or, what used to be a broad avenue. Now it was littered with the destroyed hulks of Terran war machines, ranging from Siege Tanks piled one on another to Wraiths, their tail fins jutting out of shattered second-story apartments. The sky was an angry mixture of red and black, as fires reflected off a perpetual cloud layer of discharged weapons' smoke.

Jim had been on Korhal right after Raynor had helped to retake it with Mengsk and the Queen of Blades back in the Brood War. Even then, as the Zerg crawled across its streets and flooded its subway tunnels, it had looked cleaner. Now, Jim felt as if he was standing at ground zero for a nuclear blast, something that Korhal hadn't been for a good many years.

The platoon formed up behind him, checking the immediate area for any other hostiles. A corporal jogged up next to Jim, snapping to a form of non-saluting attention.

"Sir, area is secured," he reported.

A sniper two blocks away disagreed with the corporal's statement and decided to correct him with a C10 round to the face. The poor soldier's skull fragmented in a bloody burst of red and pieces of helmet glass, spraying Jim across the visor. Out of reflex, Jim threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the second shot.

He landed in cover and looked back just in time to see the corporal's dead body hit the cracked pavement with a clang, blood oozing from the pulped helmet. Nick landed next to Jim, having just finished tallying first squad's ammo supply.

"Where'd it come from?" he asked.

Jim was about to point out the tower when a Siege Tank rumbled around a corner opposite the sniper's position. It was painted Dominion red and seemed to be proud of that fact, as the twenty-some men following it were chanting a marching song of sorts to proclaim their affiliation to any who would listen. The tank stopped in the middle of the street, extending its stabilization pylons with purpose.

Its bombardment cannon rolled out, swiveling into line with the tower holding the offensive sniper. The boom of the cannon rocked ever pile of debris for half a mile as it hurled the massive explosive shell toward its target. A flame engulfed the mid-point on the tower, thoroughly raping its structural integrity.

The tower groaned and collapsed on itself, throwing dust and smoke out like a Pyroclastic flow from its settling place. The debris washed over Jim's platoon and their newly arrived saviors, causing most troops to drop visors to filter the dirt out of their air supplies.

When the dust finally cleared, there was a red armored officer standing in front of Jim. His CMC armor was jammed with grime at the joints and the paint was badly chipped, a sign of living hard among the Korhal ruins. The man's face was roughly Jim's age, with hard stress lines creasing its surface. Jim instantly had a respect for the man.

"Heard you guys were looking for some allies," the officer said, "Looks like you needed it, too."

"Yeah, thanks for the assist," Jim said, rising to shake the man's hand.

"No problem. The name's Watson. I'm with the Dominion," he said, taking Jim's hand.

"Jim Goss," Jim said, "Confederate resistance forces."

"Confederates? Boy are you behind on the times," Watson said.

Jim nodded. "Yeah, you're telling me."

Watson laughed. "I like you, Goss. Hop on the tank, the Colonel would probably like to meet you."


	41. Chapter 41

**Author's Note: Hello again. Here's another update. This one get's us a little bit closer to the closing of the first half of this story. Chapter 50 will be exceptionally long, so be on the lookout for that in coming days. Hopefully, this will be the first of a few updates this weekend, since I'm out of school and have nothing better to do than write. So on with the story! (And don't forget to review. I hear you don't even need a profile now...)**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 41: Mergers and Acquisitions**

Jim shifted uncomfortably. Arclite Siege Tanks weren't known for comfort and as he sat on the front-left tread pod of the Dominion tank, he realized that it was no different. There was a cleat that seemed hell bent on the idea of jamming his armor's abdomen piece as far up his ass as possible. He finally gave up and stood, moving forward along the tank to where Watson was leaning on one of the two 80mm cannons.

They'd been heading through the ruined streets of Augustgrad for over an hour, stopping at each intersection to make sure the way was clear before continuing onward toward their destination: the Dominion base. It must have been pretty deep in the city, as Jim was beginning to wonder what was taking so damn long.

"Sorry about all these precautions," Watson said as if he could read Jim's mind, "But Protectorate presence in this district has picked up a bit in the last few months."

"The Protectorate?" Jim quizzed; keeping an eye on the men from his platoon that was walking point alongside the Dominion marines.

Watson looked sideways at Jim, as if to check to see if he'd heard correctly. "Yeah, the guys in yellow. Well, they're really mercenaries, but they're on the Umojan Protectorate's payroll."

"Just how many groups are on this rock, anyway?"

"Too many to count. But most of them are either too small or too unorganized to matter. The main ones are us and the Protectorate," Watson explained, "In short, when we start shooting at each other, people back off a few blocks."

Jim was about to ask another question when one of the Dominion privates walking point spun to look at Watson.

"Lieutenant! Two Thors are moving east down 16th street, near the old museum! They'll be right on top of us in no time!" the private shouted, "What do we do, sir?"

"Okay, people, get into the buildings," Watson said, walking to the tank's open hatch and peering down into it, "Sergeant Bigman? You hear that?"

"Sure did sir," said a raspy voice from within the depths of the Arclite, "Time to make some Thor chili!"

"Good. Jim, let's go, shall we?" Watson asked, jumping down off the tank.

Jim followed him into a nearby storefront that might have been a grocery store before the city had been ravaged by both a Zerg invasion and constant battle for four years. Both platoons, Dominion and Confederate, took cover amid the overturned shelves and battered countertops. Jim ended up sandwiched between Watson and Nick as they all crouched behind a piece of the ceiling that had fallen in, most likely from a bombing run.

Out in the street, Sergeant Bigman put his Siege Tank into stationary mode, unfurling the 120mm bombardment cannon. As they all waited for the Thor's to arrive, Watson offered a commentary on the situation.

"Last year, the Protectorate managed to infiltrate our forward command base and liberate six Thors from our control. Since then, we've taken out two. For them to use this many at once…well, they must not like you guys helping us," the Dominion lieutenant muttered to Jim.

"Yeah, we get that a lot," Jim replied, watching the tank sitting out on the street.

A thud shook the building, rattling tile that had settled across the ground. A sequel soon followed, and soon the building was vibrating with a steady pattern of earthshaking booms. Out on the street, the first of the Thors emerged from around the half of a skyscraper that hadn't been toppled. The enormous walker bristled with weaponry and the cannons on its back slowly moved into firing position.

The Siege Tank fired once, belching flame across the street in a shock wave of heat. Sergeant Bigman's aim was straight and true, crumpling the cockpit of the offending walker, killing the pilot in a splintering of steel.

Now out of control, the towering behemoth stumbled backward and fell over, crushing a gas station in the process. This of course created a secondary explosion big enough to open up the Thor's ammunition supply for its bombardment guns. A third explosion leveled half the block, sending already weakened buildings to their toppling ends.

"Yeah! Eat it you Protectorate mother fuckers!" Bigman shouted over the COM channel.

That statement was to be his epitaph.

The second Thor rounded the corner, more prepared than its cousin, with its cannons already loaded for action. The four heavy weapons boomed as one, each blowing crater-sized chunks of concrete out of the street. One of them hit the tank head on and it vanished in a splash of lighting and rumble of thunder.

"Son of a bitch," Watson spat, "Well, we're fucked."

Jim grinned. "Wrong," he said, then turned to Nick, "Care to take a Thor?"

Nick nodded and stood, running out of the building and into the ravaged street. As he did so, Watson looked dumbfounded.

"What're…what the hell is he doing?" he shouted, "The Protectorate has reinforcements inbound! Are you insane?"

Jim ignored Watson, instead watching as Nick worked the environment like a true Reaper. While the Thor was reloading, he jump-jetted up onto a billboard post on the opposite side of the road from the grocery store. From there, he rocketed into the sixth story window of an office building. Nick ran through the building, vaulting overturned desks like a track star, before bursting out of a window and free falling.

Directly onto the Thor's cockpit canopy.

Struggling for balance, the Reaper put two full clips out of his Scythe pistols into the glass. The clear surface spider webbed with a crackling that was audible even over the sound of the walker's rumbling engine. The pilot jockeyed the controls, shaking his machine to throw the attacker off. As he fell, Nick punched the weakest point on the glass that he could find, forcing his fist through and into the cockpit.

Using the new grip, he managed to hold on long enough to get his other hand in and smack the 'emergency stop' button located on the dash console. The walker locked up, and Nick pried off the rest of the glass. Perched on the tip of the ruined cockpit, he reached in and grabbed the pilot by his combat harness.

With a yank, he tossed the poor man sixty feet down to a splashing finish on the asphalt. Nick swung down into the seat, squeezing his armored body in, and brought the mechanical monstrosity out of its short-term hibernation. He moved it in front of the grocery store, giving Jim the thumbs up signal through the broken glass.

Jim turned to Watson, a smug grin on his face. "Now, what would you have your new Thor do?"


	42. Chapter 42

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 42: Battle at Korhal**

"You're doing what?!"

"We're moving to destroy the main Protectorate base in the business district," Watson told his commanding officer, Colonel Clegg, over his suit's COM channel, "We've captured an enemy Thor for the purposes of this mission."

"How did you manage that?" Clegg asked.

"As it turns out, the Confederate rebels are more resourceful than we had originally thought," Watson said as he watched Jim lead both platoons, Dominion and Confederate, down an alleyway off the main street.

"Watch the corners!" Jim shouted, "Cover the dumpsters for ambushes! You, where'd you say this alley comes out at?"

The Dominion corporal responded without hesitation. "Angus Avenue, sir. From there you'll have a clear shot into the Protectorate's rear."

"Good. Nick, you hear that?"

"I did," the Reaper-turned-Thor-jockey replied, "Heading for Angus Avenue. It's already programmed into this thing's navigation interface."

"Glad to hear it," Jim said, then stopped jogging when he saw Watson coming up behind him.

"Jim, I just got off the horn with Colonel Clegg. He-"

"Who the fuck is Colonel Clegg?" Jim cut in; obviously more concerned with moving troops at the moment.

"My superior. He's in charge of the Dominion remnant here on Korhal," Watson explained, "He said he'll have three full companies ready to hit the Protectorate base in thirty minutes."

"Tell him that if he wants to do this before the enemy notices their Thor's missing, then he'd better make it fifteen," Jim said, turning to continue the jog, "And if you're pissed about me taking over, I give you my word you can have your people back just as soon as we win this thing."

"You're awfully confident," Watson muttered.

Nick cut in. "We've been through worse than a few mercenaries. Turning onto Angus Avenue. Target in sight. Ready, Jim?"

Jim saw the alley ending just ahead. "Yeah, give them something to rustle their feathers," he suggested, motioning for the two platoons to form up at the alley's exit.

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Jerry Rosco was a mercenary, and as such he wasn't the most disciplined man ever. So when a Thor came lumbering into the perimeter he was guarding from atop the concrete wall that blocked off the Protectorate base from the rest of the city, Jerry neglected to ask its pilot for the clearance password. It was yellow and it had left just a few minutes before, so he wasn't too worried about it.

Jerry Rosco's ignorant existence, and that of his defensive wall, ended in a flash of 250mm thunder.

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"Feather's rustled," Nick reported, his bombardment guns reloading automatically, kicking out shells that rippled blacktop as they landed.

The Thor lumbered forward, past the alleyway that Jim and his men were crouched in, moving in toward the breached perimeter of the camp. Rockets lashed up from the defenders, peppering the front of the assault walker with pinpoints of flashing light. Nick squeezed his triggers again, obliterating the initial defensive response in a second salvo of death.

With the rear of the base successfully destroyed, Jim issued the charge. The two platoons of marines poured into the street, pounding after the Thor with vigor. They ran under and around the walker's legs, thundering into the base proper with their Impalers barking fire at the dazed, confused and thoroughly shell-shocked mercenaries.

One of the defenders came at Jim with his Impaler's steel bayonet engaged, stabbing forward with intent to hit Jim in the face. Jim engaged his psi bayonet and sliced the enemy's rifle apart before cleaving the man's body in half at the waist. He moved past the mutilated merc and on toward the HQ building, with Watson at his side.

The rest of the marines were fighting around them as they kicked open the heavy steel doors, boots in sync with each other. Four enemy marines met them, Impalers at the ready. Watson shot the first one in the face, nailing him to the nearest wall as solidly as if he had grown out of it. Jim put a triple-burst into another's gut, driving him to the ground, firing wildly at the ceiling, before slicing the third's arm off.

The man looked at the falling limb sadly, before Jim popped him in between the eyes. Watson unloaded a full clip into the last marine, driving him backward into the CO's office door. The wooden entrance shattered under the marine's weight, and he fell through onto the wooden planks in front of the commander's desk.

The commander was a middle-aged balding man sitting behind his metal desk wearing a Protectorate uniform with the advisor emblem above one pocket. He looked up at Watson and made a grab for a sidearm on his desk. The Dominion lieutenant, however, was faster, pulling his flak pistol in a flash and blasting a hole through the commander's chest as big as a coffee mug.

The older man's features twisted into an expression of surprise, before he slumped face first onto his desk, blood dripping onto the floor.

"Good draw," Jim commented.

"Thanks," Watson replied.

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Outside, Nick watched as the Dominion and Confederate troops searched the compound for any remaining Protectorate mercenaries. The rest of the Dominion forces had arrived in the form of sixteen fully loaded dropships flying at low altitudes. They had swept in low, under the Protectorate's automated AA guns' radar, and dropped their troops right in the middle of the enemy camp.

The area had just been secured when a massive steel trapdoor opened in the dirt, allowing an elevator to ascend to the surface. Two Thors stood before Nick, side by side on the lift, their yellow armor shining in the sunlight. There was a moment of silence over the camp as each of the three pilots looked at each other.

Then, everything blew up at once.

One of the Protectorate Thors got off the first shot with its twin particle accelerators. The shot smacked into Nick's walker's right knee joint, jamming it into place. With only half the mobility, it was amazing that Nick was even able to get off the second shot, much less make it accurate. He triggered one of his own accelerators, enacting swift revenge on the walker that had immobilized him.

Nick's shot ripped off the Thor's right arm, tearing it off in a rainstorm of sparks that tumbled to the ground alongside the heavy hunk of steel. He quickly followed it up with a shot from his other cannon, this one landing more accurately in the target's midsection, rupturing the fusion core engine. A blast shook the compound as the heavy walker's upper half blew off in pieces, tumbling to the dirt to leave the legs standing.

The second Protectorate Thor's pilot was more experienced, and realized that the only chance he had to take Nick down was to ram him. And ram him he did, slamming into Nick's Thor at forty miles per hour. The two monsters thundered to the ground, quaking earth throughout the city. When the dust settled, the Protectorate machine was on top of its hijacked opponent, its cannons leveled at the enemy.

Nick jump-jetted from his machine, landing on the ground nimbly and running away from the entangled pieces of Terran hardware. The Protectorate pilot saw his prey getting away, and began to right his own walker to pursue. When the behemoth finally stood upright once more, a Yamato shot connected with its main body, vaporizing the entire contraption.

Nick looked off to the east, and was rewarded with the sight of the _Tarsonis_ hovering above a nearby building.

Bill's face popped on the COM channel, and he looked pissed. "Jim! What the fuck did you do!?"


	43. Chapter 43

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 43: Garden of **_**Eden**_

"Ah, come on," Jefferies hissed, working around the wires in his hands to reverse the electrical flow.

He was crouched in zero gee on a small jutting lip sticking out of the side of the _Eden_, a science vessel that hadn't been opened since the Confederacy abandoned it into deep space over eighteen years ago. Since then, its power plant had only pulsed with minimal amounts of juice to keep the engines from freezing in case they were ever needed again.

At the moment, Jefferies was trying to get enough of that energy to divert into the door's opening mechanism, ever mindful of the yawning abyss of deep space that howled silently at him from his right elbow. Finally, the wires sparked and the door groaned aside, revealing the blackness beyond.

Jefferies, clothed in his Ghost suit, only had a maximum of two hours of air left after messing with the door panel. If the airlock cycled through into an un-oxygenated ship, then his visit might turn into a funeral soon enough. Thankfully, there was air in the next compartment and Jefferies took off his atmosphere-sealed helmet.

Sniffing the air brought with it the smell of stale air, seemingly not stirred up for ages. Jefferies felt like he was in a crypt. He'd seen a lot of death in every variety possible, but something about the ship set wrong with him. Something in every inch of it, in every bulkhead and arms locker his flashlight played across, subtly said danger.

Jefferies figured it was nervousness, and forced himself deeper into the derelict ship.

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Jim had been receiving some mixed signals as of late. On one hand, Bill had flipped a shit at the way he'd taken control of the situation and destroyed the Protectorate base. The logic had been that decimating one of two potential allies was a bad thing as opposed to seeking a truce between both.

On the other hand, Colonel Clegg of the Dominion, had praised Jim for his assistance and looked at the incident as proof of the Confederate rebels' competence for waging war. As far as Clegg's thoughts went, he owed Bill one for helping them out of a tight spot.

In any event, the two Colonels were talking over the officer's COM channel, Clegg from his ground HQ and Bill from his position on the _Tarsonis_' bridge. Jim was listening in on the conversation as he helped Watson pick apart the smoldering remains of the Protectorate base. So far, the two talking heads in his HUD seemed to be getting along, talking about ideals for a new democracy and whatnot.

"I find it acceptable that the people of this sector would be willing to vote and judge the course of themselves as a united Terran citizen body, given the chance, that is," Bill was saying, going on his typical rant about overthrowing the tyranny and ushering in democracy.

Jim kicked over a sheet of metal, revealing a man whose face had been gnarled by six spikes coming in at different angles. At least, Jim _thought_ it had been a man…

Clegg finally spoke. "Colonel Jax, you bring up a valid point about the problems of the Kel-Morian government. There is a point to be made about that, though. Men far more noble than you have taken over and led our sector under the promising banner of peace," the Dominion officer said, "And then they were consumed by greed and hatred, made into dictators by the very people who supported them."

"That's why I'm not going to be taking control," Bill explained, "My job is to overthrow the established government and help set up an election. Who runs and who get elected is completely out of my control. Don't you see? This rebellion is different. We've learned enough from the past to keep from repeating it."

Jim stopped trying to guess the mutilated corpse's gender long enough to look at Clegg's face in the HUD. The officer's face was scrunched into concentration for a long while. Finally, he made his decision. "Lieutenant?" he barked.

"Yes sir?" Watson replied immediately, appearing on the line as a consequence.

"Fire up the fleet. We're ditching this post."

Watson looked worried. "But sir, what about the tech? The fucking Scavvies will take it, won't they?"

"We'll bring what we can take," Clegg responded, "And we'll nuke the rest. Roll out, Lieutenant."

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The _Tarsonis_' database had a full file on the _Eden_, including pass codes to unlock its primary systems. After reaching the bridge, Jefferies had used said pass codes to get the power back on. Once done, he had concluded that the old vessel's air recycling equipment was still in operation. Good, now he didn't have to worry about suffocating.

Moving to the cargo manifest in the mainframe, he'd scanned for any useful items. What he found was that there were two high-security holds on the ship. One was declassified, clearly labeled as 'Apocalypse Missile Storage'. After the Korhal incident, the Confederacy had retired Apocalypse-class nukes from service, instead only fielding nuclear weapons in smaller, more tactical, roles. Apparently, retiring meant shoving the warheads onto an older model science vessel and sending them out to nowhere's asshole.

The other hold was still level-black clearance. Determined to find out what was in the second hold, Jefferies began to hack the mainframe. His one eye played over the screen as his fingers smacked the keys with the rapidity of a machinegun. He was so engrossed in the process that he didn't feel, hear or sense the sentry drone as it sneaked up behind him.


	44. Chapter 44

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 44: Reserve Supplies**

"Hello, sir!"

Jefferies jumped at the suddenness of the voice, whirling around while at the same time bringing his C10 up into line with the speaker. What lay in his scope's viewfinder was not a man's face, but the single robotic eye of a hovering drone. The machine's hull was swept back, around three feet long at most, and hovered on twin overworked fan engines. Welded to the bottom of it was a C14 Impaler rifle, a bundle of wires running its trigger housing and into the drone's hard drive to control firing.

If it weren't for the rifle being leveled at his head, Jefferies would have destroyed the bot by that point. Since it was probably faster on the pull, Jefferies only had one option left: diplomacy.

"Hello back," he ventured, not taking his one eye off that of his potential opponent.

"Indeed!" the little robotic voice chirped, "Welcome to the _Eden_! I so rarely get visitors, so I am very pleased to see you Specialist 97!"

Jefferies' felt his neck hair stiffen. "How the hell'd you know my serial number?" he pressed.

"I have virtually the entire history of the Confederacy up until a certain point. If feature scans are to be believed, then you are Specialist 97, or Thomas Jefferies," the drone giggled, "I noticed that you were trying to access my lab. I cannot allow you to hack in there, though I would be willing to give you a guided tour."

"First, who the hell are you?" Jefferies asked.

"Oh, yes, how rude of me," the hovering droid made a noise like someone clearing his throat, "I am Dr. Herbert Montgomery. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Jefferies slowly lowered his C10, but kept it noticeably in hand. "Okay Dr. Montgomery. I'll take your tour," he said.

"Splendid! Follow me. And stay close. I wouldn't want you getting lost and wandering into a compartment with no air," the drone said as it turned and headed out of the bridge.

"Why don't some compartment's have air?" Jefferies asked as he tagged along.

"Oh, a few years back some pirates stumbled across my little establishment and tried to gain entrance. I promptly made them suffocate," Montgomery explained.

"Comforting," Jefferies muttered.

Montgomery laughed, a short, bubbling noise coming out of its speakers, "I like you, Specialist 97. I like you a lot," he paused, "Jenkins would probably like to meet you."

"Who's Jenkins?" the Ghost asked.

"You'll see."

All in all, Jefferies thought his trip was becoming decidedly awkward.

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"That is a hell of a lot of Battlecruisers," Jim observed.

His words, no matter how loud, vanished in the great expanse before him. Almost half a mile beneath Augustgrad, shrouded in thick anti-nuke plating, was a massive redoubt of Dominion hardware. Twenty Behemoth-class Battlecruisers sat on the tiled floor, their red paint undiluted by any contact with the outside world.

Aside from the Battlecruisers, there was a vast array of Crucio Siege Tanks, Viking attack aircraft, empty suits of CMC 400 power armor and C14 Impalers, all new as if they'd been stamped out yesterday.

Nick, who stood next to Jim on the balcony, let out a low whistle. "Why the hell weren't these used against the Protectorate?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jim said, turning to Watson, "That's a pretty obvious question, I should think."

Watson shrugged. "We don't have anyone who knows how to operate Battlecruisers. The guys who did all died four years ago. Apparently, they hadn't been trained in how to shoot Zerg."

"So you've been guarding this facility since then?" Jim asked.

"Yup."

"For what?"

Watson shrugged again. "No way to leave," he said, "Once again: don't know how to use Battlecruisers."

The elevator behind the trio of men beeped down to their floor. Turning, Jim saw it open to reveal Clegg, Bill and Ayanami, all of them clothed in power armor. Clegg and Bill were in front, discussing something with much gesticulating, while Ayanami quietly stood behind them working on a clipboard. She seemed totally oblivious to the men in front of her, and nearly walked into the wall on her way off the lift.

"Clegg, my friend," Bill said, looking out across the floor, "You've been holding out on me."

The Dominion Colonel chuckled. "Possibly, Bill Jax, possibly. But there is a complication."

"Hmm?" Bill grunted.

Jim cut in. "None of them know how to fly these things," he said, gesturing at the Battlecruisers.

"Well, that explains why you haven't used them," Bill said, "No matter. I can convert my lieutenants into ship captains easily. We'll train a few marines in the art of using control consoles and presto! An operational fleet."

"Sounds easy enough," Clegg rumbled.

Bill clapped his new friend on the shoulder. "In war, the best things are often the simplest."

"Yeah, right," Ayanami put in from where she was leaning against the railing, still scribbling away, "You don't have to reverse engineer Terrazine. Simple my fucking ass."

Bill opened his mouth to say something when a call came in over the radio. It was from one of the Dominion sentries in the base above them, and he sounded panicked.

"Incoming hostiles! Multiple angles! We're surrounded up here!"


	45. Chapter 45

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 45: Mind Your Throats Please**

"Ah, here we are," the voice from the drone said.

Jefferies looked at where they were. After going down three winding staircases, crossing three heavy blast door checkpoints and past an array of automatic missile turrets, they had arrived at a security door proclaiming level black clearance needed to pass it.

"Oops, I seem to have forgotten my card!" Montgomery exclaimed, "Do you have yours by chance?"

Jefferies glared at the drone with his good eye.

"Just a joke," Montgomery muttered, hovering back to look at the door, "Wouldn't hurt to laugh."

A red light above the heavy steel door blinked on. A grinding noise assailed Jefferies and a sliver of light appeared where the door was beginning to lift upwards. Steam jetted out from under it and light played across the old Ghost's face as the door reached its highest point. Squinting in the sudden brightness, Jefferies made his way through the opening.

"Hello Specialist 97!" Montgomery said.

Jefferies blinked away the glare, instantly seeing the face of a very old scientist. Montgomery, in person, looked exactly like what he was: a crazy scientist who'd been locked away in a science vessel for over a decade. He was bald and wore thick-lensed glasses as big around as the bottoms of beer bottles. His lab coat was stained with oil and as he shook Jefferies hand, the Ghost noticed some of the black goo coming off on his glove.

"Hey," Jefferies managed, "You're a person."

"Of course I am!" the doctor replied, "You didn't think I was actually that little security drone, did you?"

Before Jefferies could reply, Montgomery was off across his lab, beckoning for Jefferies to follow him. Obliging the old scientist, Jefferies trudged along after him. The sentry drone stayed behind him, a respectful distance away, but kept its Impaler trained on him just in case. Looking around, Jefferies tried to get a clue as to what sort of work Montgomery was doing aboard the _Eden_.

The lab itself was a converted cargo bay and as such wasn't sectioned off by any high walls. It was still divided up into separate areas by crates that had been dismantled into makeshift partitions. Each little area was labeled in precise handwriting done in white chalk. One read 'Power Supply' and had a few tables covered by an array of electronic pieces in it.

Another said 'Dexterity Simulator'. Its only feature was a booth made out of an old missile tip. A bundle of wires ran into it from one angle and were hooked up to a machine for power. Jefferies moved past it in favor of another area called 'Weapons Coordination'. Personally, Jefferies would have just called the damn thing a rifle range, but apparently that was too crude for Montgomery's tastes.

Impalers were laid out on a bench and about twenty yards away were a line of dummy targets made from the tail fins of rockets. In fact, as Jefferies looked around, he began to figure out just what most of the test items were made out of. Montgomery had at one point clearly disassembled an Apocalypse missile from the other cargo compartment.

With this knowledge, Jefferies caught up with the doctor, who had stopped at an area simply labeled 'Barracks'.

"Oh, hello Specialist 97," Montgomery said as if he'd totally forgotten Jefferies had been there at all, "Here are the crowning achievements of my work. Please, take a look and tell me your thoughts."

Jefferies entered the barracks, which was essentially a long hallway with cryogenic pods lining the walls. The pods, or cylinders really, sat leaning against the thin walls, their lids crusted with frost from the cold within them. After a quick tally, Jefferies counted twenty pods in all. Each and every one of them hummed with activity, leaving none open for new occupants.

Jefferies stepped over to the nearest one and wiped his gloved hand across the glass, knocking the frost away. Beneath was a man, in his mid-twenties by Jefferies' best guess. The man's eyes were closed, and he looked to be enduring a peaceful slumber in his long white tube.

"You've got frozen people in here? That's your crowning achievement?" Jefferies asked, looking over his shoulder at Montgomery.

"No, no, no!" the scientist said, "They aren't people!"

Jefferies looked back at the pod's occupant, then back to Montgomery. "Looks pretty much like a person to me, doc."

Montgomery sighed. "Uh, how to put this. You'll have to excuse me, Specialist 97. I haven't had to explain my work to anyone in over eighteen years," he said, taking a breath, "The occupants of these pods are not human. They are, um, ah yes. That's the term. They are infested."


	46. Chapter 46

**Author's Note: Hi. Second update of the weekend. This brings us to the halfway point of the story and an important climax. So, if you've never once given me your thoughts ever before in the entire time you've been reading my work, now would be a good time to start. And on that subject, thanks to all the reviews I have been getting. Your ideas are really what's gotten us to this point, so thank you for that. Anyway, on with the update!**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 46: Looking For Group**

After a little over half a decade of fighting in the same city, the Dominion remnant had fortified their base quite substantially. As Jim exited the standard round command center, he saw the contingent of troops in full emergency mode. Marines ran across the asphalt and thundered up staircases, taking position atop the twelve-foot concrete defense wall that ringed the base.

A battery of Crucios converted to siege mode to Jim's right as he and Nick followed Lieutenant Watson. Having defended more than his fair share of bases during his career as a marine, Jim couldn't help but notice a distinct lack of weapons fire coming from either side. As they reached an open spot on the defense wall, the reason became obvious.

Men in CMC armor surrounded the base, their helmets off and Impalers held at their sides. The crowd was a positive rainbow of color, as hardly any of the soldiers wore the same armor as the man next to them. The Dominion defenders kept their weapons trained on the mob, ready to fire. But it was clear that even for these seasoned fighters the visitors' behavior was odd.

Hell, Jim even thought it was weird, and he'd seen some crazy-ass shit in his time.

After a minute of silence, with both armies simply staring at each other, a man stepped forward out of the varied visitors and spoke up. "You got a CO?" he shouted.

Jim motioned to Nick to go and get the two commanders. Watson leaned forward and cupped one armored glove around his mouth.

"State your business!" he bellowed.

The ambassador hesitated a moment, then seemed to get a brilliant idea. "Business is killing Combine!"

The entire multi-colored crowd whooped as one, belching out the traditional marine 'Ooh-rah!' Watson looked to Jim, who was chuckling and shaking his head. The Dominion lieutenant almost said something, but then spotted Clegg and Bill coming up the ramp onto the wall. Watson moved out of the way and let the two commanders take his place.

Clegg spoke first. "That you down there, Lazarus?" he shouted.

"Yeah, Clegg, you Dominion fuck!"

"What do you want?" Clegg hollered, his frown deepening.

"An alliance!" the man named Lazarus answered, "We've all made peace out here! Heard you're gunning to get rid of the Combine! We're in the market for a job!"

"We don't need no fucking mercies!" Clegg screamed.

Bill sat his hand on Clegg's shoulder, stopping the angry officer from ordering the crowd massacred by the Dominion Siege Tanks at the base's center. Clegg locked eyes with Bill, clearly angered by the recent turn of events. Bill shook his head, gesturing off to the side. Reluctantly, Clegg stepped aside and let Bill take charge of the negotiations.

"Now, Mr. Lazarus, what do you propose we do?" Bill said, his voice just loud enough to carry over the distance.

"Who the hell are you?" the mercenary leader asked. There was no anger in his voice, only confusion.

"I am Colonel Bill Jax, the inadvertent mastermind of this rebellion. If you wish to talk peaceably, I'm the guy you should be interested in," the former Confederate said.

Jim had known Bill a short time, but in that time he'd gotten used to how the man acted. Right now, he could see the Colonel slipping smoothly into his politician persona. In that mode, he somewhat resembled the suave, cool and collective Arcturus Mengsk. Though that bugged Jim a bit, he also knew that Bill was a man of his word.

If he said he was going to overthrow the Combine, he meant it. Also, if he said he would help make a free nation afterwards, he meant that too. Honesty came with the last name Jax, Jim supposed.

Apparently, this honesty came through clearly to Lazarus, who quickly got with the program.

"Okay, Jax," the man shouted, "Our deal is we work to help you overthrow the Kel-Morians, and then you give us jobs in your new government. Deal?"

"No deal," Bill said.

At once, every Impaler within half a mile came up into line with a target. Jim leveled his directly at Lazarus, sure that at this range he could nail the guy right in the heart. Strangely, neither Bill nor Lazarus had drawn weapons. They stayed where they were, aiming at each other. Jim stole a sideways glance at Watson, who shrugged his confusion.

"Come again, Colonel?" Lazarus asked.

"I said no deal," Bill repeated, "Look, I'm gonna overthrow the Combine and set up elections to decide the leaders of a new republic. The people of this sector will decide who leads them, not me. I don't even think I'd run for a position if we succeeded. So I can't guarantee you anything job related, Mr. Lazarus. But what I can say for certain is that you would be able to raise your children in a Sector free of tyranny and oppression, and see them come of age in a land of optimistic progress."

Lazarus turned around and conferred with a group of other leaders, Jim's Impaler tracking him the whole time. After a full ten minutes of quiet, with only the shifting of armored men to break the silence, the huddle disbanded. Lazarus turned and looked back up at Bill.

"I don't think you know this, Jax, but you're a hell of a politician! Deal, you son of a bitch!"

Both armies broke into cheers, shattering the relative calm from before. Jim lowered his rifle and turned to Bill. "So what now?" he asked.

"Simple," Bill said, "We're rolling out to finish this. But not you."

"Oh really?" Jim asked.

"Yeah. Someone's gotta go get Jefferies," Bill said, smiling.


	47. Chapter 47

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 47: Enigma**

Morganholt hated his uniform. He swore that whoever designed it had made it their mission to create the most uncomfortable piece of formal clothing in the history of the Terran race. The thing rode his spine like a leech, forcing his upper body to remain rigidly upright no matter if he was sitting or standing. Maybe it was designed to keep the wearer constantly at attention, he reasoned.

Whatever. He still didn't have to like it.

"General, what brings you before us today?"

The voice of CEO Saddler shook Morganholt out of his haze of hatred for his uniform and back into the present. He was on Moria, or more precisely 178 stories above Moria, standing before a large conference table. The 26 Directors sat around the table, all looking at him, and at the top of the table sat Saddler.

Saddler wasn't as imposing as he was on the news. He wasn't too tall, and had to wear a tailored expensive suit to cover up the middle aged tubby tummy he had on his midsection. All Morganholt could think about for a moment was how Saddler probably didn't have to worry about his suit gripping his back like a fucking parasite.

"General?" another board member pressed.

"Oh, yes. Why I'm here," Morganholt forced his mind back on track; "I'm here today to bring to your attention a developing problem. For the past few weeks I have been tailing a rebel movement throughout the sector, and though I had thought it beaten, it appears as though it has just recently gained significant power."

"How so, General?" one of the Directors, a short, fat man with a toupee, asked.

"The flagship of this movement, a Battlecruiser named _Tarsonis_, made a stop on Korhal. As you all are aware of, Korhal has been in chaos for the past six years," Morganholt explained, "But after the _Tarsonis_' visit, the constant warfare ceased."

"Why?"

Morganholt took a deep breath. "Sources say the rebels united the warring factions and gathered them under one banner, totaling around twenty ships. I fear that they now present a serious threat to our corporation."

One board member leaned over to Saddler. "You think this has anything to do with that action near the Outer Boundaries?"

Morganholt wanted to ask what sort of action had taken place while he was hunting the rebels, but he didn't get the chance.

"General," Saddler said, "You are one of our most trusted and brilliant officers, so you must understand my unease when you suggest that a rag-tag group of rebels has the capability to seriously damage our great corporation."

"But sir-" Morganholt began.

"What you suggest just isn't possible," a man next to Saddler said, "In fact, it borders on lunacy. I think I speak for both CEO Saddler and the rest of the Board when I say it would be best if you just left."

Morganholt set his jaw, thinking of telling the high and mighty bastards just how wrong they were. How they didn't know anything about what was and wasn't possible, and how it would be funny to see blood get spilled on their expensive suits.

Instead, he merely swallowed his pride and left the conference room, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

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Katsuragi stood behind Hyuga, watching as he worked to decrypt the message they'd received an hour ago. Sent out by LNN news to any vessel not registered under a Kel-Morian serial number, the message was triple-encrypted in a strange script that seemed to be a mutt dog of every traditional code Katsuragi had ever seen.

"Any luck?" she asked.

"No ma'am," Hyuga replied, sounding irritated with the difficulty of cracking the code before him.

Katsuragi sipped at her coffee cup, only to find that it was empty. She stepped over to the tactics table and had just started to refill her styrofoam cup when Lieutenant Horaki entered, quickly followed by Dr. Atari.

"Horaki first," she said, not looking up from pouring her fresh cup.

They had just entered warp after conducting a hit and run on a Kel-Morian shipyard just inside the Outer Boundary of the Korpulu Sector. If Katsuragi was guessing correctly, then the two women were there to bitch about how each of their respective departments had weathered the operation. All in all, she wanted to hear Horaki first.

Not because the ground team's status was any more important than the engineering section, but because at least Horaki's bitching would be more structured and militaristic. Atari's would just be plain bitching.

"Captain," Horaki said, snapping off a quick salute complete with heel-clicking action, "During the raid on the shipyards we managed to collect schematics on the Tiger-class Battlecruiser, believed to be the standard Battlecruiser class for the Kel-Morian Combine."

Katsuragi took a data-stick from Horaki simply labeled 'Intel'. She pocketed the piece of stolen hardware and looked back to the lieutenant. "Status of your team?"

Horaki shifted uncomfortably. "One dead, two wounded," she said, shamefully, "They didn't want to give up that data."

"It's okay, Lieutenant," Katsuragi said, stopping short of putting a hand on the younger woman's shoulder, "You lose men. It's part of the job. Besides, this intel will make them pay."

"Yes ma'am!" Horaki said, snapping off another salute.

As the crisp special forces lieutenant exited the bridge, Katsuragi looked to Dr. Atari. "So, that leaves you," she sighed.

"Yes!" the unbeatably happy engineer answered, "I have great news!"

Hyuga let out a shout of surprise from the front of the bridge. "Got it!" he chirped.

Katsuragi bounded forward, forgetting about Atari completely, and looked over Hyuga's shoulder. On his screen, a man's face had appeared. He looked older than Katsuragi, and something about his eyes triggered a memory at the back of her mind. Then he started speaking.

"Hello. My name is Colonel Bill Jax. If you're receiving this message, than you have been given a great option…"


	48. Chapter 48

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 48: Jenkins**

The _Winter Harvest _exited warp, its blocky, hammerhead bow protruding first out of the portal and soon followed by the rest of its clearly Terran-designed frame. In deep space, with hardly any light to touch it, the Battlecruiser's red paint didn't stand out hardly at all. It eased forward on its gravity accelerator engines, pulsing silently toward the science vessel in front of it.

On the bridge, Jim leaned against the back of the command chair. He didn't feel comfortable sitting in it, as he didn't think of himself as belonging in such a seat. Instead, he had used the plush upholstery to hold his Impaler, which had been dutifully staining the seat with oil since he sat it there at the beginning of their voyage.

Watson stood over the tactics table, his own rifle laying across the holographic projection screen with absolutely no grace at all. Nick stood next to the Dominion lieutenant, his jump jets taking up a considerable amount of room even in a chamber as spacious as this bridge. In fact, the only person who wasn't in full armor was Ian, who sat at the helm position.

Even he had a flak jacket on with a sidearm tucked into his thigh holster. Truth was, no one quite knew what to expect from the derelict vessel before them.

"_Eden_ this is _Winter Harvest_. You copy, Jefferies?" Ian asked into his headset.

The response came almost instantly. "We read you, _Harvest_. Ian, is Jim there?" Jefferies' voice asked.

Jim scrambled to get his own headset on. "I'm here, Jefferies," he said, "What's the deal?"

"The deal?" Jefferies asked, laughing, "Jim, I'll tell you what the deal is. I've got enough Apocalypse missiles in here to turn half the fucking sector into a nuclear-induced hell, that's the damn deal."

"Apocalypse missiles?" Jim asked, unbelievingly. It wasn't the sort of thing that he was used to hearing.

"Did I stutter? Dock up and we'll start transferring these things. I've got someone in here who'd love to meet you," Jefferies said, then added, "Hell, he'd love to meet anyone."

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The airlock hissed and slid open, revealing Jefferies standing in the doorway, his C10 slung over one shoulder. Next to him was an older man wearing a lab coat. One look at the guy told Jim that he was in dire need of a change of scenery, and he ventured to guess that the man had been in the science vessel for over a decade at least.

"Before anyone does anything," Jefferies said, "Jim, this is Dr. Herbert Montgomery. Montgomery, this is Major Jim Goss."

"Hello there! Another visitor! How wonderful!" the scientist exclaimed, his spectacles sliding down on his nose as he bobbed up and down happily.

"Hey," Jim said tentatively, "Uh, Jefferies? The missiles?"

"Right this way," the Ghost said, gesturing along the corridor.

Jim looked back into the _Harvest _and nodded to a team of men in SCVs. The Space Construction Vehicles ambled by him, numbering a grand total of twenty in all. Their former Dominion pilots kept up a running commentary of griping as they were sent along the _Eden_'s winding corridors, making for the cargo bay that contained the Apocalypse missiles.

Jim, Nick and Watson followed, keeping up easily with the unarmored scientist and aging Ghost. As they walked, Jim thought briefly of how good it would be to see Bill's surprised face when they arrived with a compartment full of planet destroying Apocalypse missiles. Jefferies stopped and opened up a set of double doors.

What lay beyond was a full battery of the high-yield nukes, literally row upon row of towering, warp-accessible weapons of mass destruction. Upon seeing the payload, Watson let out a low whistle.

"We're gonna need a bigger ship," he muttered.

"No shit," Nick agreed, "We don't have enough room to haul all this."

Jim looked to the tottering scientist that stood next to Jefferies. "Hey, you. Can we get this old tub's engines running again? Warp accessibly, I mean," he asked.

Montgomery didn't even hesitate. "Yes, I believe so. It's in a minor lockdown, but I never had the technical know-how to crack the code. But yes, is suppose it could be done."

"Ian?" Jim asked into his helmet mic, "You there, you nerdy space jockey."

"Yeah, I hear you. You baby-killing brain-job," the pilot's voice replied.

"Get over here. We need you to crack an engine lockdown," Jim said, ignoring the counter-banter that had been thrown his way.

"Oh, sure, I'd love to," Ian said, his seat creaking in the background as he stood up, "Crack the lockdown, Ian. Drive the ship, Ian. Wipe my ass for me because I'm just a big dumb marine, Ian."

"Just shut up and do it!"

"Alright, alright. Fuck. Take a joke, will you?"

Jim sighed and turned back to Jefferies and his scientist friend. "Okay, so what's you two's story?" he asked.

"Well, I was born on Tydan X in-" Montgomery began.

"No, no, no," Jim said, "What's your story on this ship?"

"Oh! Yes, I see now! You'll have to excuse my mind. It's somewhat scattered, these days. Jenkins could tell you that…"

"Who's Jenkins, anyway?" Jefferies asked.

At that exact moment, a nearby air vent burst open and a brown shape fell to the floor. Jim and Nick whirled, bringing their weapons in line with the writhing shape on the ground, hesitant to fire. As it righted itself, Jim realized what it was.

"That's a fucking larva!" he shouted, thumbing the safety off his rifle with intent to kill the vile little creature.

With surprising quickness, Montgomery had obstructed Jim's line of fire. Standing with his back to the tiny creature, it seemed to Jim that the doctor had put himself in a danger even more immediate than being shot.

"You're blocking my shot, doctor," he ordered, "Please get out of the way."

"I will not allow you to kill my friend!"

At that statement, Jim paused. He looked to Jefferies, who shrugged and rotated his index finger around his ear in the 'crazy' gesture, while nodding at Montgomery. Jim looked back to the doctor, his Impaler still trained on the man's stomach, a place where the spikes would tear through with enough force left over to kill the larva.

"The larva is…your friend?" Jim asked, quite confused.

"His name is Jenkins and he has never hurt anyone!" Montgomery explained, "He can't morph, and doesn't care for combat at all. Hurting him will do you no good."

Several of the SCV drivers were staring at the interaction, and Jim couldn't really blame them. Slowly, he lowered his rifle, still wary of the alien behind the loony lab-dweller.

"Okay, doc, I won't hurt your…friend. But the first time it tries to eat my leg, I splay its guts all over the floor. Clear?" Jim stated.

"Clear," Montgomery said, moving aside and picking up the two-foot long bug of a creature.

Scaled plates ran up the alien's back, sectioned to allow a wide range of movement. Two antenna protruded from above its large, round, moist eyes and Jim couldn't help but note a distinct lack of glowing red energy from behind its pupils. So maybe Jenkins wasn't a totally typical larva, but that didn't mean Jim had to like it.

In any case, he figured it was totally reasonable to assume that Dr. Montgomery worked with Zerg.


	49. Chapter 49

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 49: Retake**

The _Tarsonis_' cargo bay was filled to the brim with officers from all walks of life and from every faction imaginable, and as Jim looked around he couldn't help but be impressed by just how much Bill Jax had managed to pull together in such a short period of time.

In the three days it had taken for Jim and his immediate team to get out to the _Eden _and warp back to the staging point located in orbit around the twilight world of Jotun, a fleet of sixty-plus ships had rallied to the charismatic colonel's cause.

In typical Bill Jax style, he had convinced Michael Liberty to broadcast a message to all ships not affiliated with the Kel-Morian Combine. Of course, this message was easily intercepted by anyone who wanted to listen, but only decodable by people who really wanted too know what it meant. The message contained within was a work of pure genius.

It featured Bill talking directly to the listener and was full of all sorts of patriotic talk of waging war on the Combine and overthrowing their tyrannical control over the people of the Korpulu Sector. All the while making allusions to an attack on Antiga Prime as the opening bout of the war. Anyone who wished further information was urged to contact the _Tarsonis_ directly.

And contact they did, but they initially received no answer. After the origins of the call had been traced, Bill had gotten back to each and every legitimate ship commander. He'd spoken at length with all of them, and eventually gave them the position for a meeting. At the moment, Jim was standing at the very back of that meeting, leaning against a wall in his leather jacket, smoking a cigarette as he and Nick watched the political wannabes file into the room.

What Jim knew that all of them, including the Combine spooks that'd intercepted Bill's message, didn't was that the real target of the first battle wouldn't be Antiga Prime. Instead, Bill had elected to go a bolder route: straight to Moria itself.

That strategy hadn't made itself feasible until Jim had showed up in orbit with the _Eden _in tow, its nuclear payload setting off all kinds of radiation counters across the fleet of Battlecruisers. After that, Bill had felt much more confident about the rebellion. Apocalypse missiles tended to do that to people, Jim guessed.

Of course, there was a great genius in the whole thing. Since the Combine couldn't know of their assembly place, their last option to kill the rebels was to wait for them at the supposed invasion point. Hopefully, that would decrease the amount of ships they would have to deal with when invading Moria. Either way, Jim hoped that the exact plan Bill had worked up would work.

"Look at all the sheep," Nick muttered.

"Pigs, man. Politicians are pigs," Jim corrected, watching Ayanami and Bill enter.

"Whatever," Nick said, flicking his cigarette to the ground.

Ayanami's eyes found Jim and she grinned devilishly. She patted Bill on the arm and said something to him. He nodded, and she jogged over to where Jim and Nick were standing. She stopped in front of Jim, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey," she said, making a failed attempt at innocence.

Jim looked hard at her. "What's got you so excited?" he asked.

"Nothing," she lied, the smile still there.

Nick looked worried. The Reaper clearly didn't appreciate not knowing when something important was going down. And by the look on the medic's face, something was _clearly _going down. He started looking around the room, wondering what was up. Jim got the feeling as well, and too started looking.

Suddenly, a woman stepped out of the crowd of sweaty ship captains, her trim black uniform sprinkled with medals. The hilt of her dress saber shined in the cargo bay's light, and her holstered Ronin pistol took up most of her right thigh. A shock of purple hair tumbled down her back, untamed in the humid air.

All in all, Jim had forgotten how much he'd missed Misato Katsuragi.

"Jim," she said, acting very formal as she shook his hand.

"Katsuragi," he replied, matching her professional tone perfectly.

They shook for a few seconds, then both broke down at the same moment and hugged, laughing uncontrollably.

"Jesus, Katsuragi," Jim said, patting her back, "What's with the serious act?"

"Me?" she replied, squeezing him, "I thought you'd been brain panned or something."

When the two friends finally parted and stepped away from each other, the laughter wearing off, logic sat in.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jim asked, noting that his cigarette had fallen in the bear hug.

Katsuragi watched longingly as he slid a new smoke out of a pack. "Give me that," she barked, snatching it out of his hand along with the lighter.

"Hey-" he started.

"They don't allow smoking on Earth," she snapped, "I've been craving one of these for six years, Jim. So please, try and see this from my point of view."

Nick shuddered next to Jim, no doubt trying to think of going that long without a smoke. Katsuragi looked at him, lighting the cigarette as she did so.

"Hey Nick."

"Hey."

"How you been?"

"Fine."

She took a long drag on her cigarette, holding it for what seemed to verge on eternity before finally letting the smoke out in an explosive sigh. "That was satisfying," she whispered.

"Looked like it," Jim observed.

"You asked why I'm here, Jim?" she said, "I'm here because the UED wants me to be. I'm supposed to overthrow the Kel-Morian Combine, a task that isn't that easy with just one ship."

"What'd they give you?" Jim asked, fishing another cigarette out of the pack.

Katsuragi grinned, holding the slim white tube of tobacco in between her front two teeth. "Just a little ship called _Shogoki_."


	50. Chapter 50

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 50: Echoes**

Morganholt sat in his command chair on the bridge of his flagship, the _Noranda_, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he watched Moria recede from view on the main screen. His fleet of fifty ships had left port this morning and due to internal problems they hadn't been able to warp jump successfully yet.

So at the moment, they were in limbo between Moria and its nearest sister planet, a gas giant called Keapthu. Morganholt truly felt like ordering the fleet around and heading back, just so that he could have a chance to kick CEO Saddler while in his command armor. Hearing the man's bones snap like twigs would almost be worth the execution later on.

What had Morganholt, a veteran of countless military operations, worried was just how Saddler had arrived at his newest decision. The man had listened to his most trusted General tell him of the threat, explain it in very simple terms, and then dismiss it as not important. Then, when a message gets intercepted telling the whole sector that the rebels are gathering forces and intend to attack Antiga Prime, the little corporate prick decides to take action. He graciously gave Morganholt the additional ships he'd asked for with orders to head off the rebel attack at Antiga.

In Morganholt's eyes, the whole affair was one big example of how the Combine held reactivity over action.

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and watched the main screens, waiting as the warp calculations were plotted and relayed between ships.

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Bill stood on the _Tarsonis_' bridge, his armored hands clasped behind his back. As the ship exited warp, he set a foot out in front of the other, bracing himself against the inevitable bump. The bump came, and he held back his forward inertia. The main screen flickered on, peeling away the blank blackness of warp space to reveal the fleet's target.

Moria was a dark brown sphere. There were several reasons for this. One was the fact that most of its surface was covered in thick, nasty mud. The only real plants that could grow out of the thick sludge were hardened, rugged looking trees with gnarled roots and tough branches. The leaves were typically a shadowy green, making the few remaining forests dark enough to be overshadowed by the brown around them.

The planet's ocean surrounded its lone continent, the ground's runoff giving it, too, a brownish color. Another reason for the color was that the Morians, where possible, had constructed tenement-filled and overpopulated urban slums that could barely pass as stand-up cities. The steel color of the urban areas blended easily with the surrounding brown, creating a slightly lighter brown where the Combine had packed in its brainwashed employee families.

This world was sick. Sick with propaganda, sick with disease, sick with famine, sick with corruption and most of all sick with tyranny.

"Status of the fleet?" Bill asked his operations officer.

"All ships reporting, Colonel. Captains' ready signals are green across the board. Missiles locked to pre-determined targets," the ensign replied, voice wavering with nervousness.

Bill picked up his headset and fitted it over his head, getting it snug against his ears. "Patch me through, fleet wide," he told the communications station.

The headset crackled, then went into an atmospheric drone. The COM officer gave him the thumbs up gesture, and Bill started in on the little bit he had prepared.

"Men and women of this great rebel coalition, what we are doing here today is something symbolic of what is good in Terran nature. If one were to look upon our humble fleet, they would observe some of the strangest and most spectacular sights ever to grace this sector. Dominion and Confederate flags flying together. Pirate bands whom once spit on each other's bodies working side-by-side."

Down in the launch bay of the _Tarsonis_, Jim listened over his helmet COM channel as he counted off marines, pounding up ramps into the mobile command center at his elbow. Each of them weighed in at two tons and their boots banging on steel created quite a racket. But somehow, Bill's voice cut right through all the noise.

"We have journeyed a long way to participate in this monumental occasion. Some of us further than others. Korhal, Tarsonis, Antiga Prime and even Earth herself all have children taking part in this war on tyranny."

Katsuragi sat on the bridge of the _Shogoki_, cigarette smoke curling up from the object between her right index and middle fingers. She idly cocked her head to one side, listening intently to the powerful words of the ex-Confederate colonel.

"This war has been one of haste. Hastily concocted, hastily prepared, hastily organized, and in a moment at least, hastily completed. You all, each and every one of you, know your part in what will be looked back upon as a turning point in Korpulu Sector, scratch that, _human_ history. The point where things changed. The point where men stood against an ominous, evil opponent. And the point that changed the course of the wicked to the road of the righteous.

"And with that, my colleagues, my _brothers_, I say: give them hell."

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The Apocalypse missiles streaked across space, hurtling along one billowing columns of pure white jet vapor and crackling pillars of flame. Moria's gravitational pull accepted them like long-lost children, bringing them into a planetary bear hug. The weapons' trajectories curved as they independently targeted their pre-determined destinations.

They rocketed past one of two space platforms that Moria possessed, throwing off the large steel structure's orbit slightly, forcing its thrusters to compensate for the disturbance. Adhering to their design, the nuclear-equipped missiles moved to quickly to be targeted by any defense system. A point of concern during the operation's planning had been if the Combine would be able to shoot down the missiles with newer technology, as that would have thrown a cosmic-sized monkey wrench in the whole affair.

Thankfully, as the first missile hit its target, the concern was rendered unwarranted.

A section of continent vanished, replaced by a festering bulge of nuclear fire that radiated outward to encompass an area of 100 square miles. Forests were set ablaze, burning to ash in a matter of milliseconds. The muddy landscape was churned up and vaporized into steam, leaving behind only the rock that made up the planet's crust. In this roaring whirlwind of destruction, high-rise skyscrapers were toppled and tossed around like children's toys, their debris scattering for miles across the planet's surface.

The rest of the missiles soon followed the first's example and hit the planet wherever it was deemed necessary. The brownish oceans disappeared; turned to steam which was then destroyed by the nuclear division manifesting itself all across Moria. Cities were hit directly, turning to dust as if time had turned backward in the blast radius, reducing the steel to its most primitive form.

Clouds across the world were ripped apart, replaced instead by a red maelstrom of fire that raged across the landscape. 200 mile per hour winds wracked the newly ruined planet, scraping the surface clean of any thing left over, like a big scavenger picking clean the bones of some animal that had been slain by another.

Now the former brown-colored Moria was reddish black, seemingly painted that way by some demonic forces. Its surface churned like a possessed creature, the very crust buckling and rippling from the millions of megatons of power that had been unleashed upon it. And then finally, the cancerous planet's atmosphere, rendered unstable from the bombardment, collapsed in on itself.

The sudden compression of air doubled the combustible pressure and the planet's surface literally exploded, engulfing the two orbital platforms in waves of blooming, incendiary decimation. The fire kept expanding and roiled over the rebel fleet, peeling off paint as it lost energy and finally dissipated due to a lack of oxygen in the vacuum.

On the main screen, Bill saw got his first look at the new Moria. Its mud-colored surface was gone, leaving behind a blackened lump of stone that seemed to make an attempt at being spherical. The two space platforms had fallen down to the planet's surface, crashing amid the rest of the debris from the destroyed urban areas. No air was left on the planet, meaning that none of its citizens were alive, even if they had survived the initial nuking.

However, Bill would put money on one place being safe from the apocalyptic disaster that had reduced Moria to its blackened form. The Directors' Tower was rumored to have an underground bunker complex deep enough to survive a nuking such as this, and the job wouldn't be done until that had either been confirmed or proved to be false.

"Okay, fleet," he said into his headset, "Prepare to drop."

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Six command centers barreled down out of the sky, heading for the ground. They were the tip of the spear, all sixty some odd Battlecruisers following them. In the lead command center, Jim stood behind Ian's piloting chair. The young man was wrestling with the controls, trying to keep the building steady as it dropped.

Ian sighed. "Jim, again with the shoulder thing-"

"Ah fuck off," Jim retorted, moving out of the control room and onto a balcony overlooking the center's main room.

Utilizing the command centers as oversized dropships had been the brainchild of two days earlier. Jim and Watson were drinking coffee in the _Tarsonis_' break room when the idea had popped into the Dominion lieutenant's head. He told Jim about it, and over night they'd performed mechanical surgery on six of the domed buildings.

All the internal walls that formed office cubicles and partitions to separate different departments had been removed, leaving behind a hollowed out cavernous space. Into this space they'd crammed sixteen platoons of marines from assorted factions, making a very diverse and very large task force. The reason for this immense size was the logic that the Directors would be protected rather well and their defenders would be capable of putting up a strong resistance.

Of course, the side effect of the planet's atmosphere burning off really hadn't been factored into the mission planning, so there was a bit of mystery surrounding if there would even be that many troops garrisoning the target area. Jim strode down a rickety flight of stairs to stand at the front of the command center. The door controls were at his elbow and he was very much aware of the vacuum that resided just beyond the thick slab of well-oiled neo-steel.

The building pitched on its thrusters, moving one side up more than the other as Ian angled it in for a landing. First the southernmost struts touched, quickly followed by the northern ones, and the engines died.

"Okay, people!" Jim shouted, reaching for the door control, "Seal your suits!"

When the symphony of hissing vacuum clamps stopped, Jim hit the 'open' key. Air rushed from the room as the door slid aside, making the interior of the building one with the outside world. Jim pounded down the ramp and onto the ground, quickly followed by Nick and the rest of the marines. Looking around, he could see the other centers releasing their payloads of armed men, and at the far end Watson was releasing his two platoons of Arclite Siege Tanks.

Jim had been in more than his fair share of infantry charges and his body knew what to expect from such an event. There was the thundering of a thousand boots, the roaring battle cries of men at war and the barking of rifle fire filling the air as smoke billowed up off of the battlefield, accompanied with a sense of absolute exhilaration.

But as he ran up the rocky, burnt black hill to where the squat executive bomb shelter sat, Jim was experiencing none of these things. There was no air and therefore no sound, no enemies fighting them and therefore no weapons fire, and not one man was yelling due to the strict regulations set against clogging up the COM channel with unnecessary noise.

When they had reached the top of the hill Jim was finally able to get a good look at the target building. The executive bomb shelter sat with its gray sides bleached white from radiation. The nuclear attack had taken its former sky scraping cover and tossed it, shredded, across the continent like confetti. Shockwaves had cleared the dirt from around the structure, leaving it bare to the elements.

Jim held up his hand, stopping the entire column of men in a heartbeat. He then slowly moved to the reinforced entranceway. Tapping on it, he guessed that it was at least six feet thick and that there was no way to blow through it without totally destroying the airlock system and venting the complex's air. Bill wanted the Directors alive, not suffocated.

"Tech front and center," Jim said over the radio.

A marine bounded forward out of the assembled army, an engineer's wrench painted onto his right shoulder pad. "Yes sir?" he reported.

"Run a bypass," Jim ordered.

"Right away sir."

Stepping out of the kid's way, Jim looked up into the sky. Without any oxygen in the atmosphere, Moria's sky ceased to be a blue wonder. In fact, it should have just been black, one with the vacuum of space. However, thanks to the generous Apocalypse barrage, there was a haze of blood red hanging over the land, chuck full of radiation.

Jim was right in the middle of speculating on the truth behind stories of nuclear-war induced acid rain when the tech marine sounded that the door was hacked.

Upon inspection, the airlock was revealed to only be large enough to accommodate one squad at a time. Quickly, Jim selected a team to enter the facility. "Jefferies, Nick and Watson: on me. Second Platoon, First Squad come through next cycle," Jim said, stepping into the antechamber.

Once his handpicked group had filed in, Jim cycled them through. The interior door opened to reveal a short entrance hub, with corridors splitting off in three directions. No lights were on in the facility, but Jim's suit showed that air had been retained. He popped his visor up and breathed, immediately catching a distinctive smell in his nostrils.

"Blood," Jefferies said, having smelled it too upon taking his cowl off.

"Split off. Radio if you find something. Watson, watch the door," Jim ordered.

Watson spat on the steel floor. "Got it."

Heading off down the middle corridor, Jim started checking rooms. He seemed to be in the living quarters, as each of the rooms he entered were small dorms. Each one had a king sized bed, sheets neatly pressed and made, with a little kitchenette and office space. Pretty ideal place for surviving a war, in Jim's opinion.

Nick's voice suddenly cut through on the COM channel. "Found 'em."

"Which ones?" Jim asked immediately, backing out of an apocalyptic survival suite.

Nick barked a short, humorless laugh. "All," he answered, "Come check this out."

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When Jim reached Nick's position, he found himself standing in a cafeteria. Blood was pooled everywhere, spread across the tile flooring where it had been evacuated from the 26 dead bodies that lay strewn about, having fallen from the tables.

"Mass suicide," Jefferies observed from where he'd walked up unnoticed by all, "Guess they didn't want to stick around for us to do it."

Jim looked down at one body, identifying it instantly as CEO Saddler. The tubby little man had pressed a Slugthrower to his temple and used his own brain to paint the wall next to him. Sad, Jim thought, that the man had so much gore on his expensive suit. It might have been worth something to a collector of dead leader's clothing, or at the very least a history museum curator.

"I was hoping for a fight," Nick sighed, "Guess I won't get one know."

Jim opened his mouth to comment when a radio call came in. It was Bill, and he sounded stressed.

"Jim, get your people up here pronto! Enemy ships incoming!" he shouted, then said to someone on his bridge, "Charge the laser banks!"

Racking his Impaler's bolt, Jim turned to Nick. "You wanted a fight? Well, you've got one. Get topside, people!"

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Jim looked to the east as he exited the bunker. Fifty Kel-Morian Tiger-class Battlecruisers were coming over the horizon, their laser banks heated to the verge of melting, giving the impression that the ships' hammerhead bows possessed a set of angry red eyes. Above Jim, the rebel fleet was squandering as it tried to organize into a defensive phalanx.

Bill's face appeared in Jim's HUD, taut with stress lines. "Look, we're not sure yet, but it seems like the guy commanding this attack is-"

"Hello, Colonel Jax," said a new speaker, appearing in a fresh window that popped on before Jim's eyes.

"Morganholt," Bill replied, snarling in a tone of voice Jim had never seen him use, "You're late. We've captured the Board. You should probably leave before we decide to get trigger-happy with these hostages. Besides, you're outnumbered."

Morganholt's lips were a thin line, his jaw set squarely, and his forehead was furrowed. Everything about his expression showed anger, except his eyes, which were opened in a blank stare. It was the stare of a man who had begun to lose his rationality, his grip on sanity. Jim had seen it a thousand times before in men who'd seen too much war, and he was positive Bill had spotted it as well.

The loss of rationality was only made more evident when he spoke. "I've served the military for 22 years, ever since the Guild Wars. Throughout that whole time, I fought to protect my homeworld, not some useless mining corporation. The Board of Directors can die. I don't care. You destroyed the planet I grew up on. The planet I've fought for all these years.

"I don't give a shit if you've got me outnumbered. I won't stop until I've turned you and all your rebel buddies into burning scrap heaps," Morganholt finished, his eyes as absorbent as black holes. Then he signed off, and his window in Jim's HUD collapsed.

The two fleets of Battlecruisers finally drifted into range of each other. Morganholt's ships fired first, launching a salvo of Yamato beams across the burned landscape, and the battle was joined.

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"Mark," Katsuragi said, as if she was addressing someone in pleasant conversation.

Hyuga punched a key on his console, enacting the predetermined maneuver. The _Shogoki_'s thrusters fired, pushing it up and out of the way of an incoming Yamato cannon shot. The red beam slashed past, close enough to the UED-made hull that some of the steel boiled. It hit another Battlecruiser designated _Ruin's Edge_ halfway back on its main super structure.

The energy from the shot rippled up and down the ship, shaking it violently until it split in two. The individual pieces fell to the blackened earth, crashing in spectacular explosions of steel debris and orange flame. Looking down at her tactics table, Katsuragi saw that the _Ruin's Edge _was one of seven rebel Battlecruisers that had been destroyed by the enemies' opening barrage. Joining it on the ground were the destroyed hulks of the _Tygo_, _Invulnerable Hulk_, _Waterlogged_, _Sarajevo_, _Red Dawn_ and the _Edmund Duke_.

The loses were really Bill's fault, Katsuragi thought as she dissected the situation with a practiced clinical mindset. Allowing the ships to cluster one atop the other was one of the first things they taught you not to do in fleet school. Spreading them out would have been better. Putting two ships in any way but side by side when facing an enemy was typically a bad idea unless it was in a certain tactical movement, such as leapfrog Yamato shots.

Katsuragi knew that, and Bill Jax should have fucking known better.

"Hyuga, full speed ahead," she said, looking at the enemy formation on the top-down tactics table view, "We can't count on our allies for much more than cover at this point."

"Yes ma'am."

As the _Shogoki _lurched forward, drifting with a quickening pace toward the fifty enemy ships, a few of the rebel Battlecruisers managed to get off some shots with their own Yamato cannons. Katsuragi looked up at the main screen in time to see the friendly red beams perform clean misses against the Morian skirmish line.

As she watched, half the Morian ships warmed their cannons. Katsuragi realized what Morganholt had done, and respected him for it. He'd had half his ships fire the opening volley, leaving the remainder charged. Now that the second half was firing, they had much more specific targets and they avoided two beams hit the same ship. This way they saved a great deal of energy, which would be a precious commodity when the two fleets met at close range in a minute.

Of course, Bill still hadn't gotten his damn ships to spread out, and the second Morian volley was even more damaging than the first. Eight rebel Battlecruisers detonated, their reactors redlining from the energy overload, and fell to the ground as useless hunks of metal.

"_Shogoki_!? What the hell are you doing!?" Bill shouted, appearing on the first of her three main screens.

"Either cover me or don't, but the last thing I need right now is your ugly face taking up valuable space on my screens," she replied, not looking up from her tactics table as she shut him out, "And get your ships into a workable phalanx, you stupid bastard."

On the center screen, the first of the Kel-Morian Battlecruisers was only two vessel-lengths away from them. Its laser banks were ready to fire, and as she looked Katsuragi could see its missile turrets swing around to aim at her ship.

"Hyuga, pull up 34.45 degrees. Divert all power to the shields."

The Morian ship fired, sending a mixed hail of missiles and beams up to meet the UED ship. A blue bubble appeared around the _Shogoki_, blocking the incoming fire with rock-hard finality. Using technology stolen from the Protoss during the First Invasion, UED scientists had managed to reverse engineer plasma shielding for use on Battlecruisers.

That, coupled with the experimental-all-power reactor, made the _Shogoki_ a hell of a tough vessel to beat, a lesson that the Kel-Morian ship captain below them was about thirty seconds from learning the hard way.

"Power to engines. Pull to port."

The _Shogoki_'s shields dropped and it drifted around to port, lining its nose up with a ship alongside and above the ship that it had just defended against.

"Power to Ion Cannon," Katsuragi said, selecting the exact spot to tag the enemy vessel, which wasn't reacted out of confusion.

In her position, Katsuragi was safe from everything but an enemy captain's stupidity. If they shot her now, they would drop her ship directly on top of an ally, thus killing both an enemy but also losing a ship of their own. Of course, the ship below her wouldn't be alive for long anyway…

"Target locked, ma'am."

"Fire."

Another of the _Shogoki_'s upgrades due to the new engine and reverse engineered technology was an Ion Cannon in place of the traditional Yamato Cannon. Also powered by the fancy reactor, the Ion Cannon had enough power to slice through the crust of most planets. Needless to say, it didn't have any trouble with this poor Tiger-class Battlecruiser.

The blue Ion beam hit it in the wing, destroying two of its engines and ruining the ship's gravity accelerator balance. It listed down to starboard and collided with the ship below Katsuragi, driving the both of them down into the ground where they vanished in a nuclear fireball.

But the _Shogoki _was already on the move, flying past the falling ships and toward the next ship in line. It unloaded its full complement of automated laser turrets, stitching burning blue lines across the top of the Kel-Morian ship, igniting fires and throwing molten Neo-steel everywhere. The turrets hit the bridge, bursting through glass and killing the command crew. Now without a brain, the Battlecruiser blindly moved forward only to be hit by a rebel Yamato beam.

As her third victim exploded, Katsuragi directed the _Shogoki_ toward its next target: Morganholt's flagship, _Noranda_.

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Bill had finally managed to get his fleet into something resembling a skirmish line, and began to move forward. As the two fleets met at close proximity, it became a fight of who could fire the fastest. Lasers and missiles crisscrossed the air between the two fleets, sizzling hulls and exploding against plating.

One of the Kel-Morian ships exploded along its spine, the product of a missile cluster hitting it right in the Yamato barrel. It ripped in half laterally, taking two nearby allies with it. Ships were dropping like titanic, Neo-steel plated horse flies, and their hulls littered the ground beneath the aerial battleground of laser blasts and missile contrails.

As the battle raged on, Bill looked at a holographic tally coming out of his command chair's armrest. They'd lost twenty-five vessels already, while the Combine had lost twenty-three. It was at that point that the _Noranda _came out of the crowd of fighting Battlecruisers, smoke billowing from a multitude of damage to its hull.

It was moving backward, a result of being physically pushed backward by the _Shogoki_, which had rammed its nose into the Morian flagship's con tower. Finally, the strain against the superior plasma engines took its toll on the _Noranda_'s reactor, which couldn't support the duel any more and shut down. With nothing to keep it afloat in the air, the heavy Battlecruiser started to fall.

The _Shogoki _pulled up in a turning helix maneuver and joined the rebel skirmish line just as the _Noranda _collided with the ground, crunching its rear end like a pop can under a boot. Bill's bridge erupted into cheers as the officers realized what had just happened. A terrific boost of moral washed over the fleet, emboldening individual captains.

Never one to lose the opportunity for a good speech, Bill activated the fleet-wide channel. "Their leader is gone, my comrades! Crush them!"

And with that, the rebel ships swept into the Kel-Morian ranks, firing in all directions at point-blank.

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Thump. Beep. Beep. _Wham!_

The door blew off its hinges, allowing Jim and Nick to swing around the frame and into the _Noranda_, their flashlights playing across the walls. There was still air within the crashed ship, allowing the many fires that had broken out in its hallways and compartments to continue burning. Jim led, scanning the path with his Impaler.

Someone coughed from a compartment ahead and the two men stopped, dropping into crouches out of instinct. A man emerged, his uniform soaked through with a mixture of blood and sweat, and he was grabbing at his throat as if the smoke was choking him. Jim squeezed the trigger, spraying the man all across the hallway in a bloody, goo-strewn paste.

They moved on, sweeping rooms one by one, not even having to speak as they searched for General Stephan Morganholt.

Outside, the rebel fleet was beating the Kel-Morian opposition to death, solidifying the victory that Jim had figured won hours ago when the Apocalypse missiles had decimated the surface. But now, as he combed the corridors of this ruined Battlecruiser, he couldn't care less about what was going on outside. He was going to kill this man. The possibility that Katsuragi had crushed him didn't even come into his mind. Morganholt simply _had _to be in here, waiting.

"Goss!"

Jim yanked his head around to see Morganholt standing fifteen feet away, his feet squarely planted in the middle of the hallway. The General was wearing a command suit of powered armor and held a wood-paneled Impaler in his hands. An Impaler that was pointed squarely at Jim.

Grunting, Jim hurled himself behind a bulkhead just in time to dodge the first burst of spikes. The wall shook as the foot-long rounds hammered into his cover. Morganholt kept the trigger down as he swept the rifle across the hall toward Nick, who jumped into an empty room to avoid the stream of lead. The grinding sound of a weapon's bolt jamming back from lack of ammo filled the hall.

Hearing this telltale sign of weakness, Jim rounded his cover and fired. He landed one spike in Morganholt's right thigh, electing a pained shout out of the General as he limped back into the passageway he'd come from.

"Come back here!" Jim shouted, standing and chasing after his target.

Nick stood up and walked to the door of the cabin he'd taken refuge in, intending to assist Jim in his search. He had just gotten out into the corridor when a huge crash sounded from behind him. Spinning around on one heel, Nick saw the hulking form of a man suited in Marauder power armor. He had evidently just burst through a door that, judging by its remaining label scattered across the floor, had led to a mess hall.

"Stop right there!" the suited man proclaimed, "Though you have bravely entered this vessel to assist your commanding officer in hunting down mine, your fight is not with them. It is, however, with me!"

Nick reached down onto his belt and grabbed a D18 charge, unlatching it from its place with an almost casual manner.

"I am Colonel Timothy Banner, second in command of this vessel! I challenge you to a fight, evil rebel!"

With one forceful movement, Nick kicked Banner's right kneecap. There was a sickening crack as the steel forced his joint to break backward, toppling the Colonel to the ground in a moaning heap of metal. Calmly, Nick set the D18 charge next to Banner's face, letting the Combine officer get a good look at it.

"Here you go, Banner," he said, arming the charge, "A nice little present."

As Nick walked away, Banner tried to think of something to do that would stop the explosive from accomplishing its goal. Eventually, he gave up and settled for screaming angrily at it at the top of his lungs, hoping that the volume would somehow freeze the chemical reaction within the charge. His plan failed, and his head exploded from the force of a blast meant to destroy well-built military structures.

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Jim rounded a third corner, still hot on Morganholt's tail, and found himself in the ship's reactor room. Or, what had been the reactor room before it was crunched like a cockroach beneath Katsuragi's unconventional attack. Now it looked more like a bullet hole in a steel wall magnified a hundred times. Equipment was strewn everywhere, thrown around from the impact, and it was impossible to tell what was what.

A fist punched Jim in the chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He collapsed to one knee, wheezing from the pain and cursing himself for being so disoriented by the room's condition. Morganholt kneed him in the shoulder, spinning Jim onto his back to where he could look right up into the face of his attacker.

Morganholt reached down and took the magazine from Jim's Impaler, limping uncomfortably on his injured leg. He held it up, looking it over for any damage, and slid it into his own weapon's empty slot. The bolt snapped forward with a healthy click, and Morganholt calmly pointed the weapon at Jim's face, who was still trying to get his breath back.

"Major Goss, you've killed a lot of my best men in the last few months," the General said.

Morganholt began applying pressure to the trigger; "It's a shame, really. You had an honor that can't be found much nowadays in this business. I'll miss you."

"And I you," Jim replied.

The psi bayonet activated, popping into existence and slicing off Morganholt's left foot. With a shout, the man fell, spraying spikes across the wall as he did so. He landed, banging his head into the metal grating of the floor.

Jim stood up and rolled Morganholt over with the barrel of his rifle. He looked down at the man beneath him. Morganholt was shaking from the pain as blood poured from his severed foot, making a small pool. Between that and the wound to his thigh from earlier, he would bleed to death soon enough. Calmly, Jim lifted his boot into the air and brought it down heel first on the bridge of Morganholt's nose.

The weight of the powered shoe crushed the man's skull, breaking his brain case and pulping the entire cranial structure. In a residual nerve spasm, the dead man's trigger finger jerked, firing one last shot off in honor of its now-deceased owner.

Jim held his boot there for a minute, waiting for the feeling of satisfaction.

It never came.

Toji was still dead, as was Harris and all the other people who had died in the war to overthrow the Combine. Jim picked up Morganholt's customized Impaler and began to head out of the ship the way he had come in, linking up with Nick along the way. The Reaper looked at the second rifle in Jim's hand.

"You kill him?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jim answered, "I left him back there. Figure burying him in his ship is about the most honorable thing I can do for him."

"Honorable? Why be honorable about it?" Nick asked.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. Guess because he'd have done the same for me."

And with that, they stepped out of the ship and into a brave new world.


	51. Chapter 51

**Author's Note: Hey, little earlier than normal on this update, but I hope you don't mind. With this batch we start to head deeper into what the rest of this story will be focusing on. I appriciate all the positive reviews that I've gotten from you guys, and I'm glad to see that I have a fanbase that likes what I'm churning out. Keep it up, it really does help! On with the story!**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 51: Cold Comfort for Change**

Jim entered the _Tarsonis_' bridge still in his CMC armor. He'd just gotten back on the ship after six hours of orchestrating the retrieval of surviving crewmembers from the destroyed wreckage of Battlecruisers that had been downed during the battle. The rebel survivors had been loaded onto medical dropships and flown away to friendly sick bays, while the Combine crews were shot on sight.

Having spent most of his time participating in the latter operation, Jim's armor would need a fair bit of cleaning to get the guts out of its joints.

"Jim," Bill said, clunking over to him in the command suit he wore.

Shaking his hand, Jim noticed that even with the battle won, Bill hadn't lightened up. Though the better half of the Kel-Morian military had been destroyed in the nuking, there was still a large portion of troops alive in other systems that could be a problem. Bill was clearly aware of that, and as such he looked very concentrated.

"Did you need something?" the rebel leader asked, "We're about to go live here in a second, right Mister Matthews?"

Ian looked up from where he was messing with a camera, cigarette hanging from his lips. "If I ever get this piece of shit running? Yeah, we'll be live."

Jim chuckled. "It's nothing that can't wait. Make your speech, Bill," he said, turning to leave, "I'll be in my quarters."

Bill watched Jim go, thinking briefly about how easy things would be if he had fifteen more officers just like him. Shaking the thought away, he turned back to Ian, who had finally gotten the camera up and running.

"Okay, patching you through onto live LNN feed in three, two, one," Ian said, "Go."

"Hello, people of the Korpulu Sector," Bill said, looking straight into the camera, "My name is Colonel Bill Jax, leader of the Rebel Coalition Against Totalitarianism. I come before you today not with talk of a pipe dream or a shallow hope like so many other leaders of rebellions that have spoken with you in the past. I do not come to you today to tell you of plans to rebel, or to tell you of thoughts of rebellion. No, friends, today I come before you to tell you of _success_.

"Earlier this morning, a turning point in our collective histories was reached. In a roar of thunder and clashing bang of nuclear fire, Moria, the homeworld of our oppression, was utterly decimated. It lies now not with towering cities filled with corrupt businessmen, but in ruin, merely a blackened spot on the ever-black background of space. Its atmosphere no longer reeks of diluted ideals and brainwashed propaganda, for it too has been wiped away in the storm. Moria no longer exists, and by that token neither does the Kel-Morian Combine.

"But even with its destruction, we must not let this dark organization disappear from our memories. For as we build on its ashes, we must remember its follies, so as to avoid them and prosper of our own accord. In the coming months as the last few remains of the Combine are hunted down and destroyed, my organization will be working around the clock to establish a new government. A government that is democratic. A government where citizens will choose their leaders. A government by the people and _for _the people.

"So, if you see us entering your city, please don't be alarmed. Get your name put down. Register as a citizen. Be able to say to your children and their children that you were there. That you saw the end of oppression and were there when the United Korpulu Republic became a _reality_."

Bill smiled his best, warm politician smile. Ian flipped a switch, cutting the feed. On the monitor alongside the camera, Michael Liberty reappeared, sitting behind his desk in his suit. The hyper-experienced newsman was in shock, his mouth agape at what he'd just seen.

"Did you overlay the images?" Bill asked.

"Yup," Ian replied, striking another cigarette, "Everyone across the universe got to see real holographic proof that Moria is dead and gone. Seems like it gave Liberty a good reality check."

Bill laughed and clapped Ian on the back. "That it did, my boy. That it did."

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Jim placed Morganholt's wood-paneled Impaler butt first onto the ground beside his desk, propping it upright in the corner of his cabin. Though not precisely what he would use in combat, Jim did have to concede that it didn't look half-bad in his room. A little trophy of what had been accomplished that day, he thought.

Jim walked into the corner opposite his bed and collapsed his armor, stepping out of it with care not to trip on any of the power cables running from the suit to his psi-bayonet equipped Impaler. He had just opened up his footlocker to get out some clothes and an old toothbrush for cleaning his armor when the doorbell buzzed.

"Hang on a minute, Bill!" he shouted, putting the toothbrush back.

He pulled on some jeans and walked over to the door without a shirt. Opening the door, he expected to see the distinctive, hard-angled face of Bill Jax. Instead, he was met with the pleasant sight of Captain Misato Katsuragi standing before him.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Jim shook his head. "Nah, thought you might be Bill," he said, turning and heading back into his cabin, "Come on in."

Stepping into the room, Katsuragi's first thought was about the smell. A mixture of sweat, blood, oil and gunpowder radiated from the small enclosure. At least three of those odors could be attributed to the hulking CMC armor in one corner, while the sweat could only be placed on Jim. He had gone back to his footlocker, squatting near it while rummaging through its contents, probably looking for a shirt.

Powered armor, as its name implied, was powered and therefore took a good amount of the physical strain out of moving in combat. That said, a bit of the movement did rely on user strength. As consequence, there were no marines that could even by a huge exaggeration be classified as 'fat' and all of them were quite strong looking.

Jim was no different. As Katsuragi looked at him, she could see the individual beads of sweat slipping down over his bare back, roaming along the specific lines created by different muscles beneath the skin. Even though she had known Jim personally for a long time, she could still feel her cheeks redden from seeing him like this.

But that was dumb. It wasn't because she had any…thoughts…about Jim. It was only because she hadn't seen him in six years and he had filled out a little more since then. That was all it was.

Wasn't it?

"Did you need something?" Jim asked, not looking up at her.

Katsuragi jumped a little at his sudden-yet-totally-logical question. What the hell did she need? Why had she even come in here in the first place? Katsuragi wracked her brain for the answer, having totally forgotten. Or had it been that she hadn't had one in the first place, and had simply come over to talk with him?

At the moment she didn't really care, and she knew that if she did try and talk to him she would say something awkward and ruin their friendship. In the heat of the moment, she went with the first excuse that came to her mind.

"Toilet paper," she said with confidence.

Jim stopped rummaging and looked over his shoulder at her, a confused look on his face. "Come again?"

"Toilet paper," she repeated, "I'm out on the _Shogoki_, and since we're here I figured I'd ask you for some."

"You came all the way over here so you could get toilet paper from me?" Jim asked.

"Yup," Katsuragi lied.

Standing, Jim headed into his bathroom. A few seconds later, he emerged with a full roll of white paper.

"Here you are," he said, tossing the ass-wipers to the UED captain.

Catching the roll, Katsuragi thanked him and quickly left the cabin. Alone again, Jim briefly wondered what was wrong with her. He came to the conclusion that six years on Earth had screwed with her head and that it was just taking her a while to get back in the swing of things. Without another worry about it, Jim turned back to face the daunting task of cleaning his bloodied armor.


	52. Chapter 52

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 52: Have A Cigar**

Antiga Prime was a mess. Kel-Morian forces, shattered by the lack of leadership, were scrambling across its surface to try and defend various bases as the planet's civilian populace rose up in open rebellion. With Moria gone, most of the Combine's non-resocialized generals had defected to the other side and were helping orchestrate the civilian uprising.

In only a few days, the Kel-Morians had been forced back to one base. Called Fort Durango, it was placed up on a small mountainside. Unlike other post-apocalyptic disaster worlds, Antiga Prime had taken its incineration by the Protoss in stride and bounced back earnestly. This mountaintop was a fine example of how the ecosystem was beginning to adapt.

Trees with lush, full branches grew out of the rich soil, obscuring the small Combine depot from any prying eyes. Though the civilians had launched two attacks already and the marines defending the base had taken loses fending them off, the civilians had lost a lot more than they had any other time they'd made an attack on a Combine position. Wisely, they were holding back on the next attack.

It was a bad situation, but to the officer in charge at Fort Durango, it almost looked workable. That was until the rebel main fleet showed up and sent six dropships down to deal with the remnant problem, quickly backed by another civilian charge. The entire camp was overrun in fifteen minutes. A civilian found the ranking officer's dead body, lopped his head from his body and mounted it on the end of a bayonet.

Holding the bleeding object up into the frigid morning air, he let out a primal whoop. The assembled rebels saw the sign, interpreted it as a symbol for change, and let out a cry of victory that echoed across the forest around them.

At the center of the commotion, Jim talked into his helmet. "Yeah, Bill, you here that?" he asked.

"Yes. What was it?" the Colonel replied.

Jim laughed. "That's your new fan club," he said, "Bill Jax for president seems to be the word around here as well."

In the past four weeks, Jim had personally seen and been instrumental in the liberating of eight Combine core worlds and while that still left eighteen to go, Jim knew that they wouldn't have a problem. After each force of Morians was destroyed, the task turned to organizing the populace into the new governmental order.

That was where Jim was enjoying himself the most. People were lining up in droves to be registered as citizens of the United Korpulu Republic, and they were happy about it. After four long years of being pushed down under the boot heel of the Combine's oppression, the people of the Korpulu Sector were ready for a change.

However, the remaining Kel-Morian military forces spread across the Sector still had access to Terrazine gas and while they hadn't had a chance to use it on any of the worlds Jim had been to, there were stories of its use. Apparently, an uprising on Halcyon had ended abruptly, nipped at the bud by a wave of crushing green gas.

As a precaution, Ayanami and her medical team were administering a vaccine to the toxin's effects with every citizenship card. Even as Jim watched, a UKR command center drifted down to ground at the base of the mountain, right in the middle of a city park. Without checking, Jim knew that the center would be filled with men tasked to register refugees as citizens of the new Republic.

Though Bill had been unanimously decided as the UKR's leader until an election could be held, most people Jim talked said that they would accept no one else as the first president of their new government. On Dylar IV, freed citizens had already started to print out Bill Jax for president signs with more rapidity than the main fleet's printers could generate citizenship forms.

Over the COM channel, Bill scoffed. "Elections will decide that, Jim, not me," he said, "Anyway, return to the _Tarsonis _ASAP."

"Wait, but what about the registering?" Jim asked.

"The men in charge have done this seven times before now, I'm sure they can handle themselves. Just get up here, we need to talk."

"Roger that," Jim replied, squelching the line, "Nick! Get over here!"

The Reaper pulled himself away from where he and Jefferies were chatting up a giggling group of civilian girls who'd hiked up to the base in the aftermath of the attack. As Nick trotted over to where Jim was standing alongside a dropship,

"You need something?" he asked.

"Watson's sick right now, so I need a lieutenant to watch over the registration proceedings. You're it until you die or I find someone better," Jim said, hauling himself up into the dropship, "Clear?"

The former Staff Sergeant grinned. "Oh yeah, we're clear," he said, turning maliciously toward Jefferies.

As the dropship's ramp closed, Jim hoped that Nick would show a bit of mercy when utilizing his new rank to Jefferies' humility. By the time the vacuum seal had finished hissing, he realized that there was no hope for the one-eyed, middle-aged Ghost. Jim made a mental note to adjust the chain of command so that only authorized people could give orders to a specialist like Jefferies.

But for now, maybe it wouldn't hurt for him to do a few more push-ups.

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Jim thumbed the doorbell, his armored finger making the device seem pitifully small by comparison. A voice from within beckoned and the door slid aside, revealing the room beyond. As he entered a wash of acrid cigar smoke rolled across Jim. He looked around at Bill's cabin, taking in the sight in a cover-specific way.

A large open living area dominated the cabin. It was fairly sparse, aside from a couch, two chairs and low table off to one side. A small fireplace sat opposite the furniture, four plastic logs sitting inside a softly crackling fire. Next to the fireplace was a thick window that looked out across the vacuum of space. The window took up the entirety of the far wall and Jim figured that in combat it would be rather susceptible to breaking.

However, the view of Antiga Prime, its clouds as light wisps on a green and blue background, slowly rotating far below them made the potentially severe atmospheric hazard almost worth it.

"Jim, come on over here," Bill said from the couch, beckoning to him with a hand holding a thick cigar.

Jim nodded and plodded across the carpeted floor, his combat boots leaving the crust of partly dried blood behind. If Bill noticed the dark red flakes, he didn't appear to care in the slightest. Jim eased his way into the chair nearest to the fire, the other occupied by Colonel Clegg. The table sitting in between all three men was low to the ground and bare aside from a wooden box of cigars.

Jim remembered the box. It was the same one he'd retrieved from a Combine general's office on Brontes a week ago. In fact, as Jim looked at the box, he could see a dark stain on the lid where its former owner's brain had been sprayed across it.

Bill slid the box across the table. "Have one," he urged.

"You needed something," Jim said, picking a thick cigar from the box, "Now I'm here. What is it?"

Bill glanced at Clegg, who nodded. "Major, over the past few weeks we've been picking up more soldiers for the on going fight against the Combine remnant," Clegg started, "Totals at this point are staggering. Our main fleet has nearly tripled, growing to three hundred ships, while our ground forces are almost too much to transport. At this point, we're going to split off and compartmentalize the military."

"Meaning?" Jim pressed, sucking in on his cigar. The smoke was rich, filling his lungs with an air of luxury that couldn't be fulfilled by any normal cigarette. At once, Jim decided that the next time he came upon a box of the smokes, he would keep it for himself.

"Meaning," Bill said, taking over the discussion and bringing it down to brass tacks, "That I will be remaining here on Antiga with a quarter of our forces in order to set up a central homeworld for our new organization. Meanwhile, Clegg here will take the better three quarters and continue on, clearing colonies of Combine oppression and registering new citizens."

Jim nodded. "I take it I come in somewhere else. Otherwise, you could have just left me on the surface and told me all this over the radio."

Bill laughed. "As usual, Jim, your observations are spot-on. You're going to run a little special, one-ship campaign for me," he said, "You see, the most important ideal of this new government is peace. Peace not only with our own species, but also with others; in this case, I'm referring to the Protoss. Aside from some scattered rumors, we're really not sure what's going on in the Protoss systems."

Leaning forward, Bill lowered his voice to a quiet rumbling. "What I want you to do, Jim, is find out just what's what over there. Take the _Shogoki_ and whatever equipment you think you might need. We'll handle everything here. The Combine is all but defeated. It is imperative to the future of our fledgling republic that we establish friendly relations with our psionic neighbors. Can I count on you, Jim?"

Jim leaned forward and put his cigar out in an ashtray before standing. "Absolutely," he said, plodding across the floor and out the door.

As the door shut behind him, Clegg looked to Bill. "Can we really trust him?" he asked.

"We have to," Bill replied, "There is no one else available who knows the first thing about interacting with Protoss, much less has ever met one in friendly conversation. No, I think he'll do just fine."


	53. Chapter 53

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 53: Clockwork**

Jim tossed the pictures on his desk into his footlocker one by one, careful to make sure that they landed atop some folded clothes to keep them from breaking. Double-checking to make sure all of his belongings were packed, he shut the lid and threw the case up over his shoulder. In his CMC armor, Jim stepped out of the room he'd called home for the past two months and headed down the corridor to the medical bay.

Upon entering, he saw Ayanami hunched over a table, working on some kind of chemical test. "Oh, hey Jim," she said as he walked in, "What's up?"

"Bill's having me take the _Shogoki_ into Protoss territory. See what's what and the like," he explained, "Are you staying here?"

Ayanami nodded. "Yeah, I thought about it for a long time. I'm the only woman alive with any knowledge of Terrazine research beyond how it kills people. My place is here. Besides, the whole galloping around the galaxy thing gets old after a while. And in my case, there's also one more thing to consider."

"What's that?" he asked.

The blue-haired medic smiled warmly. "I was thinking of settling down and starting a family."

"Assuming you meet the right person," Jim put in.

"Oh, I think I've found him," Ayanami said, extending her hand, "It's been great knowing you, Jim. You're a good friend.

Jim shook her hand. "You too, Ayanami. See you around."

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The last time Jim had seen the _Shogoki_, it had been receding from his view after Katsuragi and Hyuga had dropped Ayanami, Nick and himself off with Raynor's Raiders. That was six years ago. Now as he looked at it from behind his shuttle's windows, he could see that the UED had obviously replaced the battered and scarred exterior plating with fresh new armor.

Originally an experimental Confederate vessel, it had been taken by the Dominion for study just before the UED stolen it from the Dylarian Shipyards. Throughout all this switching of hands, the _Shogoki_ had been heavily modified. The Confederates had designed it as a tactical Battlecruiser, outfitting it with no Yamato gun but instead a vast array of missile turrets for sustained bombardment during space battles.

The Dominion, due to their heritage as rebels, recognized the ship's potential for hit-and-run tactics. They shoved a slightly sawed-off Yamato cannon into the smaller craft, leaving a bit of the barrel hanging out the front end by about twenty feet. In addition to the heavy weapons, the Dominion had also augmented the already fast ship with a newer engine.

After the UED acquired it in the first invasion in 2501, placing it in the capable hands of one Captain Misato Katsuragi, it had even more modifications. These weren't formal, but rather things that Katsuragi's crew had done during the two years they were stranded on the frozen world of Braxis. Making its first trip to Earth, the ship had gotten even more special treatment.

Jim noted that the main gun still stuck out a little, but from what he'd heard it was for firing a ship-sized Ion cannon. The hanger bay door opened, allowing the shuttle pilot to wedge his way through and into the compartment. It was comparatively small compared to its counterpart on the _Tarsonis_, but it was rather well equipped.

Robotic clamps swung down out of the ceiling, gripping the shuttle in a vice grip. The pilot muttered something negative about computer controlled landing. In any event, the clamps lowered the shuttle to the deck. The hanger door sealed and Jim led the way out into the bay, quickly followed by Nick, Jefferies, Watson, Ian and a sixth passenger on Jefferies' shoulder.

"What the hell is that thing doing here?" Nick asked.

Jenkins made a small squeaking sound and squinted angrily at Nick in a face that looked more than its fair share of hateful.

"They wouldn't let Montgomery keep him, so I took him in," Jefferies said, the warmly organized words coming out in a voice cold as ice.

"How long you gonna keep it?" Nick pressed.

"Long as I need to," Jefferies replied, his statement just the right amount of irritatingly vague.

As the conversation at the rear continued, Jim pressed forward into the ship. The corridors, though fresh with new paint, were still made out of the same metal. Walking through each door, he could see that the crudely welded support struts inside the superstructure were unchanged. It was those extra pieces of steel that allowed the smaller ship to hold up against much larger threats.

On more than one occasion during the time that the Dogs of War was an organization, the _Shogoki_ and its crew had found itself in an ambush, with far better equipped enemies coming at them from all sides. If it weren't for the strengthening modifications, they all would have died long ago.

There was still only one elevator on the whole ship, and Jim had almost reached it when the doors parted to show Katsuragi. She looked bored, as if watching ground troops pound Combine garrisons into pieces from orbit wasn't an effective use of her talents.

"Hey, welcome back aboard," she said, "Barracks are still on C deck, so if you want your people to go find some empty rooms-"

"Nick?" Jim asked.

"On it," the Reaper replied, turning the team around to go use the stairwell crammed off to one side.

Jim entered the elevator. "Is everything ready to go?"

She nodded, fishing a cigarette pack out of one of her uniform's pockets. "All the equipment you had shipped over arrived an hour ago, so we should be able to roll out at a moment's notice," she said, pressing the bridge key with her lighter, "Can I ask just why the hell you had an Arclite Siege Tank loaded into my cargo bay?"

"Health insurance," Jim replied without missing a beat.

The elevator doors parted. If walking through the corridors of the _Shogoki_ had nostalgia tapping Jim on the shoulder, than the sight of the bridge constituted a full-blown punch in the face. Everything was as it had been all those years ago. Hyuga was still sitting in his chair, the tactics table still gave off an aroma of freshly sludged coffee, and the air filtration system still kicking out a steady droning noise.

Katsuragi stepped past him, walking to the tactics table. "Want some coffee?" she asked like nothing was amiss.

"Sure," Jim said, walking over to stand across the table from her.

Katsuragi handed him a steaming cup and Jim accepted it gingerly in his armored hand. She tapped in a few commands on the command strip of the tactics table, bringing up a top-down holographic view of the Korpulu Sector. Using the zoom tool, she focused the view on the Protoss systems, which didn't seem to be very detailed.

"Bill already told me our job," she said, "But as usual, you're in charge of where we hit, uh, _recon_ first. Take your pick."

Jim took a sip of his coffee as he thought the situation over. It tasted really hot, burned the back of his throat and lit his tongue on fire as the thick substance rolled over it. In short, it was really, really good Korpulu Sector coffee.

"Aiur," he finally said.

Katsuragi arched her eyebrows, pushing them up behind her bangs. "Jeez, Jim. Think you're aiming high enough?" she asked.

Jim nodded.

"Okay then," she said, "Hyuga?"

"Aiur it is," the spectacled helmsman said, proving that he had been listening in, "Jumping in five."

"You already plotted the course?" Jim asked.

"No," Katsuragi said, "We just kind of figured you'd head there first."

"Am I that predictable?"

"Like clockwork."


	54. Chapter 54

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 54: Warp Time**

With the _Shogoki_ in warp heading for one of the most out-in-fucking-nowhere planets known to man, its crew was experiencing some down time. Nick was hanging out in the cabin that he shared with Jefferies, watching a sitcom on the room's vid screen. Jefferies was there as well, sitting on his own bunk as he dismantled his C10. Jenkins the Larva sat quietly on a pillow nearby, watching intently from behind his buggy black orbs as each piece was slowly removed and cleaned.

On the bridge, Ian was chatting with Hyuga about various things ship-related. Despite their backgrounds being light years apart, the two men had found that they shared a lot of opinions about things and instantly became friends. Katsuragi sat in her command chair; cheek propped up on her fist, nodding in and out of sleep as the jump wore on.

Watson was in the cargo bay, tinkering with the tank they'd brought on board. Jim had been against bringing the thing and it had taken Watson what seemed like an eternity to get him convinced to bring it. Now that the stubborn Major had been swayed, the last thing Watson wanted was to fuck up. He'd kept his crew working throughout most of the jump, literally disassembling whole sections of the vehicle and putting them back together, checking for problems all the while.

In the interest of improving the team dynamic, Jim had taken it upon himself to meet every new soldier on the ship. He had begun with the different department heads, since that seemed like the logical place to start, and was working his way down.

The engineer, Dr. Samantha Atari, was clearly a civilian and a stupid one at that. Jim didn't really care if she could design a plasma-based photon reactor. She had been worried about him giving her 'Colonial Diseases' simply by shaking her hand, which didn't show much intelligence. Besides, she was too happy. In fact, Jim wondered how Katsuragi had kept herself from shooting Atari in the face.

But, at least Atari was harmless. As Jim spoke with Lieutenant Rika Horaki and her sergeants, he quickly learned that happiness wasn't a common theme throughout the _UES Shogoki_.

Horaki's team was called the Black Dove Platoon. Jim learned this fact very quickly, as they seemed to love saying it to each other in the form of a shout to show appreciation, much like Jim's own Terran marine friends said 'ooh rah!' However, the analogy was far from perfect, as Jim had never heard ooh rah said in the same conversational places…

"Are you hungry?"

"Why yes I am. BLACK DOVE PLATOON!"

Lieutenant Horaki didn't say much, and always adhered to military speak. But it didn't take a genius to figure out that going into Protoss space troubled her. That said, her men did have quite an arsenal. Their cut-down powered armor would be perfect for out maneuvering the Protoss, which Jim had found was one of the most-if not the only-effective way of dispatching them.

By the time Jim had returned to the bridge from his rounds, he was dead tired. He had debated heading straight to his new cabin and falling asleep without even going to tell anyone where he would be, but upon entering the bridge, he was immediately glad that he hadn't.

The center of the three main screens showed a man in his sixties. He was dressed in a UED uniform with more than its share of medals pinned to the fabric and his silver hair was cropped close to his skull, a result of balding more than anything else. But his face was just as square and military as they came. He didn't look angry, but was rather frustrated.

"Remind me again, Captain, why you're going all the way out there?" he asked.

"I told you, Admiral. The Combine is still a threat. If there's a chance that the Protoss can help the new government set up shop, then its worth our input," Katsuragi replied.

She hadn't even stood up from her seat and everything about her face, body and posture made her look relaxed, which with Katsuragi meant she was wound up tighter than a spool of wire. Jim thought briefly about leaving. He _really _didn't want to be there when she went off on this guy.

"It is not your mission to assist this 'new government'! Call off this preposterous mission, kill your passengers, and return to Earth at once! We will not tolerate a delay!" the on-screen admiral fumed.

Katsuragi hit a button on her chair, killing the feed to the screen. The old admiral's face disappeared, replaced by black. Sighing, Katsuragi leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. Jim cleared his throat, spinning her around as quickly as if he'd grabbed her shoulder.

"Oh, hey," she said, "How much of that did you hear?"

"From remind me again to kill your passengers," Jim replied.

"Don't worry," she said, "You're safe."

"Yeah, I know. Who the hell was that anyway?" he asked.

The answer, in all its cynical glory, came from Hyuga. "That's Fleet Admiral Waters. About the most hateful and despicable officer in the Directorate navy."

"Really?" Jim asked, "I'd have though Gendo was worse."

"Yeah, well, we've been kind of short on asshole admirals these days," Katsuragi said, "They're really scrapping the bottom of the barrel now."


	55. Chapter 55

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 55: Clash of the Titans**

"Exiting warp in three, two, one."

The _Shogoki _emerged out of a warp hole, jolting a bit from the rough transition. Going from faster than light to dead stop in one second would never be totally comfortable, Katsuragi figured. The main screens flickered to life.

Aiur filled the view, its sweeping green plains flowing across the screens as a near river of vegetation. The planet's oceans seemed to follow the contours of the land, sculpting it in an endless search for the perfect coastlines as their waves reflected a billion fragments of light up into space. The sight stole away Katsuragi's breath, but not Jim's.

"Alright, control yourself," he said, heading out the door, "Bring us in. Assume that we've got six seconds to get the fuck out of orbit before they convert us to orbital debris."

"Hyuga, make it happen," Katsuragi said, standing to follow Jim. She caught up to him at the elevator, looking at him as he punched in the deck key. "How are we going to find the Protoss?" she asked.

"Simple," Jim replied as the doors started to close, "We'll wait for them to find us."

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Ever since he'd first seen the _Shogoki_, Jim had loved one part of it above all else. On the center of its undercarriage was a plate of Neo-steel that could be lowered; essentially turning the Battlecruiser into an oversized dropship. Aptly nicknamed the Invasion Ramp, this tool was a practical way to put men on the ground fast, without the necessity of a dropship.

That and it was great fun to use.

As the ship swung in low over an ocean, the Invasion Ramp was already lowered partially. Jim held on to one side, gripping a hydraulic post with one hand while holding his Impaler with the other. The deep blue of the water swept by beneath him, whipping past so that it became a single blur. Looking ahead, Jim could see the coastline coming up quick.

Lieutenant Horaki stepped up beside him, her streamlined power armor not taking up nearly as much room as his full CMC suit did. She held a compact laser rifle in her hands and if Jim had to guess, her knuckles were white from gripping too hard beneath the olive drab gloves.

"Sir, Black Dove Platoon is ready to assist you," she reported.

"Thank you, lieutenant," Jim replied, "And relax, will you? This is a peaceful mission."

Horaki, surprisingly enough, was pretty quick to retort. "If it's supposed to be peaceful then why are we in full combat gear?"

"Because this is the Korpulu Sector," Jim said. He couldn't think of any other way to explain it.

Before Horaki could respond, Katsuragi's voice cut in over the intercom.

_"Drop in five. Be ready, people."_

Beneath them, blue changed to green as the _Shogoki_ roared over the cliffs making up the coastline. They topped a rise in the landscape and came down gently in a valley, engines blowing bits of grass not tough enough to hang on in the dirt across the area. The ship's massive landing struts touched ground, sinking in about ten feet.

The Invasion Ramp lowered fully, hitting the ground with a jolt, and Jim calmly led the troops out onto the grass. Even though each of them had been trained either in a different military or a different branch of the same military, they all seemed to know the five-meter-spread by heart, and quickly arranged themselves as such.

Jim moved out from under the bow of the ship and looked around. Instruments in his HUD told him that the valley they were currently in was six miles long, and that side to side it measured around one mile. The grass was full of dew, and as Jim stepped in it he could feel his boots sink in a bit, sharp contrast to the unyielding metal plates of the _Shogoki_'s hallways.

"Okay, anyone see anything?" Jim asked over the COM channel, raking the valley with his eyes.

No structures were in sight, something that he had specifically requested from Katsuragi. Structures typically meant something important was there, and important things were fought over. The last thing Jim wanted was a Protoss Executor thinking he that he was trying to steal some broken-ass temple from them and fucking over the diplomacy part of his mission.

"Nothing here," Watson said.

"Not a damn thing," Jefferies put in.

"Nope. No sign of-" Nick said, pausing, "Wait, think we've got a looker. West side."

Jim looked west, magnifying his visor's view. A figure stood on the rim of the valley, golden armor gleaming proudly in the sunlight.

"Terran! Your desecration of our territory will not be tolerated! Make haste and be gone, before I must do something I regret!" the Protoss bellowed, his psionic voice carrying clearly over the large expanse.

An army of Zealots appeared, joining the first Protoss on both flanks, ringing the western edge of the valley with their gold-clad bodies. Jim racked the bolt on his Impaler, ready to fight if necessary. He was about to say something back when another voice rang out.

"Executor, these Terran come not to desecrate and destroy, but to seek peace!"

Jim wheeled around to see that the eastern edge was also filled with Zealots, led by yet another High Templar who stood at the head of their formation.

"You, too, have entered our territory!" boomed the first Templar, "Take back your actions, Executor Hyrazal!"

The second Templar, or Hyrazal as Jim now knew him, wasn't about to be outdone. "It is you who must take back actions, Executor Gy'ryn! You're mind and those of your followers are not of the Kahla!"

"I will make you eat those words!" Gy'ryn called.

The crackling of a thousand psi blades activating filled the air, washing the valley floor with a static charge.

"Oh shit," Nick managed, then the two armies descended, and like waves of gold, broke against each other.


	56. Chapter 56

**Author's Note: Hey guys, new update time. I don't really have much to say in this note aside from mentioning that some important stuff's about to happen in the chapters to come. I also sort of answered what happened to Raynor at the beginning of this particular chapter, so if you've been wondering where he'd run off to, here's your answer. Most canon characters have died by the time this story occurs. Remember, I had to make up an ending for StarCraft II in order to get away with this story at all. Anyway, here's the batch. Enjoy and, as always, review if you can.**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 56: Blood Swamp**

Jim had traveled with James Raynor from the day Raynor's Raiders was formed to the day it had all ended on Char four years ago with the death of the man for which the organization was named. In that time, he had had the distinguished opportunity to work with his fair share of Protoss, all of whom had a tremendous sense of honor and stunning fighting skills.

But in all that time, Jim had never seen Protoss fight with as much rabid ferocity as what he was seeing before him now. What typically was a graceful display of elegant danger more akin to dancing than fighting had been replaced by a honor-less, no-holds barred melee of swinging psi blades, cracking shields and poetic curses.

Two Zealots smashed into each other right in front of Jim, their psi blades locked at chest level. One of them wrapped his leg around the others and tripped him. The Zealot landed on his back and managed to get a kick off into his tripper's face before standing and delivering a solitary stab to the brain. He bellowed victoriously, but was cut off as another Zealot lopped off his head.

The newest Zealot turned toward Jim, who didn't hesitate before filling his face full of 8mm spikes. The Protoss warrior fell backwards, splashing down in a pool of sticky blue blood.

In fact, as Jim looked around he noticed that after just five minutes of combat most of the valley floor was soaked through with the luminous fluid. KIA messages started flowing in over his HUD, counting off the deaths as his soldiers dropped like flies. At this rate, they'd all be dead in a matter of minutes.

"Everyone, fall back to the ship!" he shouted, putting a burst into an onrushing Zealot's shields.

The Zealot jumped at him, but underestimated its opponent's readiness. Jim grunted as the Zealot's full weight landed on his psi bayonet and he succeeded in holding the dead body aloft for a moment before it fell. Jim yanked his weapon out from the golden armor's folds, bringing with it a literal fountain of blue that spattered across his armor.

Jim turned and ran for the safety of the Invasion Ramp, jumping clear over two Protoss who lay locked in combat on the valley floor. As he passed, he heard what he thought to be the chunk of a psi blade breaking through skull, but there was no time to turn and confirm the notion. Self-preservation was at the forefront of Jim's mind as he closed with the ramp.

Nick and Jefferies stood at the bottom, covering the retreat of their teammates. Watson was moving past them, dragging the upper body of a screaming soldier that Jim's HUD identified as the Black Doves' own Private Marty Santiago. Nick sprayed a Zealot with two full clips of ammo, dropping its shields and allowing Jefferies to put it down for good with two 20mm canisters to the chest.

Jim pushed the falling Zealot's body aside, knocking it around to land on its face, and started up the ramp. He slipped on Santiago's intestines, face planting on the blood-slick steel. He had just started to stand back up when a Zealot hit him at full running speed, tackling him off the other side of the ramp. His Impaler ripped free of the power cables that had secured it to his suit, and it landed in the muck of the blood-soaked valley floor.

So when Jim landed on his back, he had no weapon and no means to defend himself against the Protoss soldier straddling him.

"And now, worthless Terran, you shall be cleansed!" the Zealot cried, lifting both psi blades into the air.

A red beam sliced through the Zealot's shields and burned a hole through one temple and out the other. Both of the warrior's blue psi blades snapped off, and the body slumped on top of Jim. Lieutenant Horaki reached down and pulled the golden armored dead weight off of him, her laser rifle still smoking from the recent discharge.

"Sir, we've got to get moving!" she shouted, offering her hand to Jim.

A blue blur swept through the air between them and Horaki's arm fell to the ground, her severed elbow spraying dark red all over the place. Screaming, she tried to bring her laser rifle around into line with the Zealot who'd sliced her limb off, but there was no way it would get there in time. The Zealot came in with his other psi blade at a low, swooping angle and lopped off her left leg.

Horaki fell sideways, discharging her weapon as she did so. The laser blasts hit the Zealot, burning a total of sixteen neat holes in his torso. He managed one more step forward before Jim shot it in the face with his flak pistol.

Standing, the marine Major grabbed Horaki under her one good arm and started hauling her to the _Shogoki_. He threw her over the side of the ramp with a tremendous heave and got a face full of blood from her severed leg in the process.

"Jim, on your six!" Watson shouted, aiming with his Impaler.

Jim whirled around and fired off the rest of his pistol's clip, which coupled with Watson's Impaler fire was more than enough to bring the charging Protoss threat to a halting, jerking and bloody end. Jim grabbed Watson's hand and was pulled up onto the ramp, the sounds of gunfire still banging in his ears as the Dominion officer fired off the rest of his ammo into the crowd around them.

"Who's not on board?" Jim shouted over the roar.

"Hoskins and Robinson!" Horaki managed to call out despite the bleeding wounds she had suffered.

"Here they come now!" Jefferies shouted from the base of the ramp.

Jim looked to see two soldiers emerge from the crowd of battling Protoss, one male and one female. They pounded toward the ramp, but the male stopped just long enough to fire a few shots at the hostile forces.

That was when a Zealot sliced his head off with a glancing blow from a psi blade. Even as the soldier, identified as Private Hoskins in Jim's visor, fell with his neck spouting blood, the female was spinning around.

Corporal Robinson, as she was called, was outfitted with a massive laser cannon that had enough recoil to be fitted on as a permanent addition to her right shoulder pad. She was also the only member of the Black Doves to use full sized armor, on account of this fearsome weapon.

So needless to say, the Zealot never saw it coming.

A bright flash of red fire erupted from the mouth of her Positron Rifle, projecting a beam that liquified the Zealot's upper body. The recoil pushed her violently backward, a symptom of her unstable footing on the slippery ground, and she landed on the Invasion Ramp's bottom. Nick reached down with one hand and pushed her fully up on the ramp, turning to look at Jim.

"Everyone's on!" he shouted over the steady bang, bang, bang of Jefferies' C10.

"Katsuragi, move it!" Jim shouted over the COM channel.

Without a reply from the violet-haired captain, the _Shogoki_'s engines flared to life and lifted it and it's severely damaged crew off the ground. The sudden influx of energy output toward the valley below actually stirred up some of the settling pools of blood, filling the morning air with a faint blue mist that shrouded the combatants.

The _Shogoki _roared back out to sea, leaving the embattled valley behind them. Jim stayed on the ramp, his eyes going to where Lieutenant Rika Horaki lay. She was sprawled out on the ramp, the Neo-steel around her stained dark red. Typically, most suits of power armor sealed wounds to prevent the possibility of bleeding out.

That said, most Protoss weapons tended to break that rule, and Jim had seen enough people die like that to even begin convincing himself that Horaki's life would run any longer than a few more minutes. He knelt down to give her the facts about what was about to happen to her life.

It was at that exact moment that a plasma blast smashed into the ship.


	57. Chapter 57

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 57: Leaden Skies**

The interceptors came in low and fast, delivering a vicious blow to the _Shogoki_'s port side. Plasma washed across the steel plating, boiling it in some spots. One blast hit the Invasion Ramp's port side hydraulic strut, tearing it in half like tin foil. Immediately following the strafing run, the ramp started to groan to one side, angling a slope off to one side.

Jim reached up and grabbed a metal support above his head, holding on as the ramp bucked beneath his boots. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Horaki wasn't as lucky, pitching over the side without anything to grab onto. She plummeted down; splashing into the ocean as her heavy combat armor dragged her under. With only one arm and one leg, her already slim odds of swimming out of the situation were reduced to none.

Nick jump jetted past Jim, pulling Jefferies along with him to escape the end of the ramp, which was no doubt the most unstable part of the contraption. Corporal Robinson barreled forward just as the remaining hydraulic pump snapped, breaking the Invasion Ramp free of all moorings and letting it off the ship it had been attached to for so long.

Robinson jumped, one hand outstretched for any help. Nick grabbed her and stopped her fall, just as the heavy piece of Neo-steel shattered the vast blue canvas below them, vanishing beneath the ripples it created. With a grunt, the Reaper pulled the UED heavy weapons expert into safety, the extra weight popping his shoulder joint out of place.

"Jim! Jim are you there!?" Katsuragi shouted over the COM channel, sounding genuinely panicked.

"Yeah, we're alive," Jim replied, "Somehow. How's the ship?"

"One engine's gone, and most of our shield projectors got screwed with that first run, so our static defenses are screwed. That leaves us with our active defenses, of which we have maybe sixty percent up and running, and without any kind of-"

"Katsuragi!" Jim interrupted, "Short and sweet! I'm not a fucking techie!"

"One more pass from those interceptors and we're going down, and I don't mean in the pleasant landing fashion," she replied.

"Roger that," he replied, then turned to the rest of the team, "Get back inside. We're about to hit dirt. Hard."

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Katsuragi stood rigidly as the interceptors made a long, banking turn to come around and face her. She knew the nimble automated craft could turn on a dime, which made it all the more unbearable that they were taking their time, taunting her. A carrier hovered a few miles off, its gleaming hull seeming to gloat at the approaching demise of its opponent.

Even with one engine, the _Shogoki _was still able to move at a good pace, and they were fast approaching an island. If there was one good thing about the interceptors taking their sweet time was that it gave Katsuragi more time to get closer to that land. If they absolutely had to ditch, land would be preferable to water. Neo-steel didn't have a very good track record when it came to the subject of floating.

The robotic drones breezed by the _Shogoki_, raking it with energy blasts as they went. Explosions peppered across the Battlecruiser's hull, blowing defense turrets apart before they could fire and wreaking havoc on various communications dishes. Plating boiled away and finally one of the ship's wings exploded at its joint to the main fuselage.

As the wing fell away, the _Shogoki_ started to spin around like a top, losing altitude rapidly and giving off smoke from the fires that had broken out across its surface.

"Trajectory report!" Katsuragi screamed over the wailing of emergency klaxons.

"We're heading down toward the island!" Hyuga shouted back, "Impact in thirty seconds!"

Katsuragi grabbed at her headset and shouted into the mic. "We're going down! Hold on everyone!"

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The jungle was a quiet place, despite the constant warfare that raged across Aiur's surface. Most animals did stay in shelter in the interest of not being killed in the crossfire. The few that were out and about quickly ran away as the _Shogoki _came barreling in, its rear end first. Hyuga managed to wrestle it around; making a sideways landing on the side that was missing its wing.

The ship smashed into the canopy, snapping whole trees like toothpicks as it muscled through the undergrowth. The blazing engine lit the leaves on fire, creating a living hell in passing. Steel churned up the mossy ground, throwing countless tons of soggy soil into the air. The bow section hit a long-abandoned temple, breaking the hand crafted stone into a thousand irreparable pieces.

Eventually, the ship's odd balance caused it to roll onto its top. The remaining wing was violently jammed into the jungle floor, obstructing the slide and consequently pole-vaulting the ship over onto its underbelly again, bringing it to a sudden grinding, thundering stop.

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Hyuga pried himself up off of his console, checking to make sure his glasses were still on. Once he was sure that the lenses hadn't been cracked, he took a look around for Katsuragi. He spotted her crumpled against the shattered remains of where the three view screens used to be. Now, a view of the gnarled jungle was in their place.

Looking out across the landscape, Hyuga saw that their crash had dug a long gash into the jungle floor. Dirt was churned up along the angry scar-like depression, the trees along each side on fire from the engine's passing.

Hyuga crouched next to his captain, checking her pulse. She was alive, but clearly knocked unconscious from the crash.

_"Katsuragi! Katsuragi, what's our situation up there?!"_ came Jim's voice, tiny and constipated, from the headset laying next to the command chair.

Hyuga limped over and picked it up, synching it over his head. "Hyuga here. Captain's knocked out, but we're okay up here," he said, not used to talking over the intercom, "How about you?"

"Aside from the massive headache, damaged equipment and the fact that our entire compliment of ground forces are for the most part dead? We're doing fucking great," Jim replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hyuga looked out the broken front window, seeing that a series of Protoss shuttles were landing at the front of the ship near its crushed bow. Zealots were pouring out, their psi blades glowing a vibrant blue as they started out across the top of the Battlecruiser.

"Uh, Jim?" Hyuga said, "We have company."


	58. Chapter 58

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 58: Out of the Frying Pan…**

"We are _so _fucked," Nick muttered.

"Don't say that," Jim snapped, "We've been through worse."

Nick looked unconvinced, but kept quiet as the squad pushed through the blackened corridors of the _Shogoki_, heading toward the reactor room. Jim had conferred with Hyuga, explaining to the helmsman that they would be evacuating the ship pronto. As they moved, Hyuga was heading for the hanger bay, to prepare the dropship ready for immediate departure.

They reached the engineering bay's doors and Jim holstered his flak pistol, grabbing one part of the seam. "Watson, Nick, help me with this!" he ordered.

The two lieutenants moved up and helped him, each grabbing a portion of the seam in their armored grasp.

"Damnit, McCabe! Your jumpjets are in the way!" Watson griped.

"Deal with it," Nick retorted.

"Both of you shut the fuck up!" Jim shouted, "Pull!"

All three men heaved, grunting under the strain. The door seemed wholly resistant to the idea of budging even a little bit. Finally, after twenty seconds, a slim crack appeared. Light danced through from a handheld torch lamp, wavering in the blackness. One final effort and the doors parted, throwing Jim, Nick and Watson off balance.

Ian stepped through the door, held up only by Dr. Samantha Atari, who had her left arm wrapped under both his armpits. She held a flashlight in the other hand, playing it across the faces of her rescuers.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Protoss forces are closing on our position," Jim said, "They'll be here any minute."

"We are so fucked," Ian muttered, the blood loss from an injury to his side slurring his words.

"That's what I said," Nick put in.

Jim sighed. "Did anyone else make it?" he asked Atari, ignoring Nick's crude estimate of their remaining life spans.

"No," she replied, "Everyone else in the engineering bay died in the crash. The, um, reactor sort of melted down."

"We are _so_ fucked," Ian repeated.

"We are not fucked. Get to the hanger, Katsuragi and Hyuga are on their way there right now," Jim stated, pulling his flak pistol back out, "We're leaving this wreck."

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Executor Rasinar stepped up the last few steps to the top of the temple, his long, loping strides taking the stairs two at a time. The temple was thousands of years old, constructed on the island by ancestors to Rasinar's own Furinax Tribe, and stood strong even all these years later. The fact that in crashing, the Terran ship had severely damaged the pyramidal structure only served to enrage Rasinar ever more.

At four meters tall, Rasinar was a powerfully built and strongly willed male Protoss. He wore his golden combat armor with pride, refusing to replace any of its pieces that had been damaged in combat, feeling that to do so would be an act in forgetting past honors. He was four hundred and eighty years old, a good enough age to be leading his tribe.

As far as the Terran race went, Rasinar showed no real care. He despised the meager, hairy creatures as pathetic and worthless beings, barely fit to breathe air, let alone achieve warp travel. Rasinar had woken this morning in the hopes that he could finally launch his assault on the Akilae Tribe, an attack he had spent months preparing, but that now would have to wait.

Because of the Terrans.

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"Jim!"

Looking up, Jim caught the object hurtling through the air just before it hit him in the visor. Turning it over in his hand revealed that it was Morganholt's wood-engraved Impaler, its ammo counter reading a full magazine. Holstering his flak pistol, Jim hefted it two-handed.

"Thanks, Hyuga," Jim said, striding at a quick pace toward the dropship.

"Yeah, figured it might help," the helmsman said, "Saw you lose the other back there in that valley."

"How the-"

"External cameras," Hyuga replied, cutting Jim off mid-sentence, "The captain's already in the dropship. What're we waiting for?"

"That's a damn good question. Everyone: mount up!" Jim shouted, racking the bolt on his former-trophy rifle, "And someone get this door open!"

Atari passed the injured Ian off to Nick. "I'll get it," she said, "I know the emergency override codes."

Jim nodded and watched her jog across the hanger, lab coat trailing behind her as a beacon in the beam cast by his shoulder lamp. He briefly thought about Samantha Atari, and how he might have been wrong about her. Maybe she wasn't quite the bubbling idiot he'd pegged her for.

Watson came jogging over, three power-suited soldiers following him. Jim recognized the troops as the tank crew that had been brought along for handling the Arclite. None of them really looked too happy to be working outside of the protected siege vehicle and each seemed slightly uncomfortable within their new CMC armor.

"Watson, help with the pre-flight check," Jim ordered, not taking his eyes off Atari's position.

"Yep. Mount up, people," Watson told his men, natural commanding instincts kicking in.

With everyone else in the dropship, Hyuga fired the engines. A settling layer of dust from the crash blew out from under the engines, spraying across Jim as he stood beneath one wing. Atari spliced two wires together and the hanger door slid upward, just high enough for an exit. Unfortunately, this was also just high enough for a squad of Zealots to slip under and into the ship.

Jim raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger; letting out a booming fusillade of shots that hit the first Zealot squarely in the chest, blowing through its shields, armor and flesh. The Protoss warrior fell, arms grasping at the air, and landed wetly in a pool of blue on the deck just before it could reach Atari with its outstretched psi blades.

Even as Jim pivoted to aim at the second Zealot, he knew that he was fresh out of ammo and time. Samantha Atari's life ended in a flash of blue light and a spray of vivid red. Realizing that he would be next if the evacuation wasn't carried out immediately, Jim ducked into the dropship and smacked the 'close ramp' button.

"Took your sweet time," Jefferies grumbled, his one eye fixed on the closing ramp.

"Suck my dick," Jim spat back, heading forward into the cockpit.

Nick set a hand on his shoulder, stopping his forward momentum. Looking over, Jim locked eyes with the Reaper.

"Atari?" Nick said.

"Murdered, by the Protoss," Jim answered, making the last word sound like a curse.

Nick was about to respond, but Hyuga beat him to it.

"Brace yourselves!"

The dropship's engines blared, lurching the flying box forward on its stubby wings. It rocketed out under the narrow crack of the door, scrapping against steel and sending invading Zealots reeling backwards in evasion. The sudden change of dark hanger to bright blue Aiur sky was stunning, to say the least, and Jim put up his hand to keep from getting to many sunspots.

"We made it!" Hyuga shouted, turning to sweep back across the crash site…

….and inadvertently right into an anti-air screening of plasma bolts.


	59. Chapter 59

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 59: The Contender's Return**

Plasma lashed against the dropship, burning through the armor and exposing the wire frame of its design. The heat inside the boxy craft increased to the point of boiling, and Jim licked his lips to try and put more moisture in them. Hyuga had been presented with an encapsulating AA screen and the only way he could possibly get them out of it was to fly straight through, something that was easier said then done.

They had almost gotten free when their port side engine exploded in a spray of fire and expansion of molten debris.

"Shit, I'm losing her!" Hyuga shouted as the dropship started to tumble downward, smoke belching out of its side, "Grab onto something!"

Jim gripped the doorframe leading to the cockpit hard enough to warp the steel, his glove giving him the force of a machine. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Nick was holding onto Ian while Robinson kept the unconscious form of Katsuragi still as their descent became even more hectic. In his CMC armor, Jim was reasonably sure that he would survive the crash. However, for the two unarmored people, he was a little worried.

The dropship came crashing down onto a beach, barely half a mile from where it had originally taken off. It landed on its side and roughly skidded to a sudden stop against a stand of boulders, throwing every man, woman and piece of equipment within into disarray. Jim picked himself up off of the ground, checking to make sure that his rifle was operable before looking around the troop compartment.

"Everyone okay?"

Robinson was the first to respond. "Sir, I've been better," she managed, sitting up with the massive positron rifle still mounted on her right shoulder.

Nick merely nodded, both for himself and for the now unconscious Ian. Jefferies flashed him the thumbs up gesture, while Watson checked the motionless body of one of his tankers.

"Something up, lieutenant?" Jim asked, moving toward the door.

"We lost Private Wantanabe," Watson said, looking up from the dead man to Jim, "He was a good kid."

"I didn't know him," Jim said, the comment coming out a little cold even to his ears.

Maybe it was true, but it still didn't need to be said. Jim knew that, and he was sure that Watson knew it too.

Trying to shove all that to the back of his mind, Jim opened the dropship door. The smell of fresh sea air went unnoticed, overpowered by the burning jet fuel leaking from the shattered remains of their port side engine. Stepping out onto the sand, his boots sinking in halfway up to the top of his toe, Jim took a look around.

They were on the outside of the island they'd crashed the _Shogoki _on and according to Jim's topographical map layout, they were precisely three quarters of a mile away from where the Battlecruiser in question had gone down. It wasn't much in the way of daring escapes, but it would give them a little valuable time to get a plan together. How much time that would be depended on how fast the Protoss attacking them could get their shit in gear, a factor that Jim wasn't much of a judge on.

"Okay, everyone grab anything that's useful and evacuate!" he said, looking back into the dropship, " Nick, how's Ian?"

"I'm doing better sir, just feeling a bit concussed is all," the tech replied, somehow having regained lucidity.

"Think you can fight, soldier?" Jim asked, throwing in a blatantly obvious attempt to make Ian think of himself as a real marine.

Ian laughed. "I can try," he said.

"Good. Take Wantanabe's armor. He won't be needing it," Jim said, turning to lead their team up the beach under the cover of a cliff.

Nick came out of the dropship and strode up next to Jim, his helmet's facemask off. "What're we gonna do?" he asked, "They're bound to find us."

"Well, there isn't much we can do about that, now is there?" Jim replied, "All we can do now is wait for them to come in and fight as hard as we can to stay alive. Course, they're bound to bring in the heavy stuff after a while, but until then we'll kill as many of the mother fuckers as we can."

"I do not appreciate being called a mother fucker, Major, but I believe I can let this one incident slide," said a deep, rumbling, baritone psionic voice.

Jim turned slowly, his Impaler left hanging at his side. Standing before him at a little over three meters tall was a Protoss zealot, his golden armor concealed by the navy blue hue of a cloak made from Bengalaas pelt. His psi gauntlets were inactive, but bulkier than normal and seemed to pack a little more punch. But what caught Jim's attention were the Zealot's eyes, twin coals the color of the most intensely blue flame, showing a glimpse of their owner's vast intellect.

Jim felt the figure's presence as one that exemplified combat, priding itself on the perfection of all things involving warfare and honorable battle. He smiled, clapping the zealot on his broad shoulder with the hand not clutching Morganholt's Impaler.

"Nanius, you magnificent bastard!" he shouted, "Your timing always was spot on!"

"Yes, it would seem I shall be making common practice out of pulling you from the yawning of death's embrace," Nanius replied, "What brings you to Aiur? Clearly not an initiative based within the traditionally sane realms of thought, I should hope."

"You calling me crazy?" Jim asked.

"Always," his friend said, and Jim could feel the unseen smile tacked onto the word, "Now, let us deal with these heathens. Then we will speak of past victories, present trials, and future uncertainties."

"Agreed," Jim said, seeing the first shuttle emerge from over the cliffs…


	60. Chapter 60

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 60: Blood on the Sand**

The shuttle came in high, dropping its passengers at an altitude of thirty feet. Eight zealots hit the sand, absorbing the impact with their heavily muscled legs, and stood to face Jim and his team. Their psi blades were already active, glowing in the afternoon sun. They charged, dashing up the beach as a united strike force, heading directly for the crashed dropship.

Nanius leapt past Jim, discarding his long cloak in mid air, and landed in front of the lead zealot. Psi blades crashed together, spraying blue sparks across the two combatants. In a blur, Nanius forced aside his opponent's right arm and lopped it off. With the fluid grace of a dancer, he inverted his blade and hacked the stunned opponent's head in half laterally, revealing the zealot's brain.

Two more zealots launched themselves at this new opponent, coming in with howling psionic war cries. Nanius' right psi blade lengthened to a full five feet and he swung, spearing one zealot through the chest. Raw energy burst from the target's back amid a spray of blood, then was retracted. Both zealots landed, one alive and one dead.

The living one whirled on Nanius, catching a flying kick to the head for his efforts. The zealot expertly turned his awkward sideways stumble into a cartwheel, bringing himself upright alongside Nanius. Thrashing out, the zealot delivered a series of jabs toward Nanius' exposed side. Nanius blocked the attacks, forced the zealot's arms outward and kicked him in the face again, this time hard enough to shatter his spine. With a brutal crack of bone, the zealot fell to the ground, limp as a rag on a shower floor.

Nanius turned to the remaining five zealots, standing tall before them. He made a quick whipping motion with his extended psi blade, flicking fresh, blue blood onto the sand. His formerly kind-looking blue eyes were now burning with a clear urge for combat and bloodshed. His entire body was composed, ready to move in any direction at the merest sense of an enemy action.

One of the zealots started to step forward. Nanius lunged, landing on the poor soul and jamming his psi blade into the zealot's eye socket. At once, the other zealots descended on him; their blades held high and ready for blood. Nanius whipped around with his longer blade, slicing off three legs before any harm could come to him.

Three zealots landed on the sand, their stubbed legs bleeding like gushing geysers of fluorescent blue. Nanius turned to the last zealot, bringing his blade down in a sparking flash from above. The zealot put both his own blades up in defense, catching Nanius' weapon in a fiery hurricane of flashing energy. The two struggled against one another, each trying to beat the other at a contest of raw strength.

The zealot heaved, his eyes narrowed in strain, as Nanius slowly pushed him back with only one hand. Finally, the zealot's psi blades collapsed and Nanius' blade moved down, slashing the front of the younger warrior's face open. The zealot hit the sand, his brain falling out and landing flatly on the ground, sizzling from heat generated by latent psionic energy pent up within it.

"Major, we must make haste," Nanius said, collapsing his weapon and moving up the beach, "If I know a single fact about Executor Rasinar it is that he certainly does not appreciate defeat. His next attack will consist of Dragoons, and neither I or yourself possess the equipment necessary to deal with those mechanical monstrosities."

"Huh?" Jim said, looking up from shooting one of the handicapped zealots in the face, "Who?"

"I will explain in a moment," Nanius said, opening a secret passageway out of the cliff face, "But first we must take refuge, lest we be destroyed by forces vastly outnumbering our own."

"Everyone, into the cliff!" Jim bellowed, running up the beach toward the opening.

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Six more shuttles settled down over the beach, discharging whole squads of additional zealots and Dragoons onto the blood stained sand. Rasinar floated down out of one, his head standing tall above the rest of his subordinates. He strode across the battlefield, his footfalls sinking deep into the loose ground, to kneel beside one of the dead zealots that had been part of the initial recon team.

Reaching out, he brushed his fingers across the dead warrior's bloodied brow. A psi blade entry point was cut through the chest plate, and Rasinar briefly wondered who could have done this. Surely not the Akilae Tribe, he thought. Observations had concluded that his main rivals were no where near combat ready, not after their recent struggle with the Ara Tribe.

Then who?

Rasinar's thoughts were interrupted, however, when the nearby dropship exploded in a billowing cloud of flame. Two zealots who had been examining the wrecked craft were flung free across the beach; their bodies charred black from the sudden flames. Rolling around on the ground, it took the two zealots a good three minutes to finally perish from the damaged caused by the booby trap.

"Brothers," Rasinar boomed, anger welling up within his breast, "The Terrans show their cowardice, laying traps and running as opposed to standing and fighting. It is for this reason, that they must be punished. Scour the island! Find them!"

The Furinax Tribe's military machine swung into action, breaking down into search parties and fanning out, searching the beaches for any clues as to the hated Terrans whereabouts. As they did so, Rasinar turned back to his personal shuttle, hissing one last command as he went.

"When you find them, I want them alive."


	61. Chapter 61

**Author's Note: Hey, everyone. It's Friday and I've got an update for you. Hope this batch keeps your interest, because it was great fun to write. Anyway, review if you've got the time (which you honestly should) and tell me what you think, good bad or ugly. Have a good weekend, and enjoy the chapters.**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 61: Aeon of Strife II: The Sequel!**

Katsuragi felt a sharp pain in her brain. A deep rumbling shook her mind, causing an ache in her cerebrum. Groaning and wondering just what the hell it was, she opened her eyes. Immediately, she saw Jim, his armor dented and scratched under a harsh light source. Next to him, Katsuragi could see a Protoss zealot, whose speech was causing her brain agony. Finally, when she started to concentrate, the ache formed into words and the pain dissipated.

"My activities within this shrouded facility have been well guarded against prying eyes who would seek to undermine my efforts," the zealot was saying, "The walls around us are reinforced with ancient Xel'Naga equipment. It is my belief that they used subterranean constructions such as this to study my species when we were in our infancy."

Jim nodded. "So how far are we beneath the _Shogoki_, Nanius?" he asked.

"Fifty meters," the zealot replied, "An adequately thick distance to prevent notice."

Katsuragi's head was sent spinning. "Nanius?" she managed to croak out.

The zealot turned, his deep blue cloak flailing as he did so, to look at Katsuragi where she lay on the ground. "Yes, it is I, o captain of the Directorate. I bid you welcome to Aiur, though I hath seen Executor Rasinar already unroll the, how you Terrans say, 'welcome mat'."

"Yeah, thanks Nanius," Jim said, moving past him to kneel next to Katsuragi, "You okay?"

Katsuragi looked up at Jim's face. His deep, chocolate eyes, rugged cheeks, square jaw, kind gaze accentuated with eyebrows arched in his concern for her wellbeing. Thankfully, Katsuragi was able to mentally kick herself and stop just short of melting in his arms.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, then tried to stand. Her legs buckled almost immediately, and if it hadn't been for Jim catching her under the arms, she would have gone right back down on her ass.

Jim laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, fine my ass," he said, "Ian! Get over here!"

The sound of an armored marine clunking as they walked was heard and Ian Matthews appeared from a side passage. He was encased in red CMC armor and held an Impaler one handed, looking in all seriousness like a true marine. By the grin on the tech's face, it was clear that he was relishing the chance to act like a 'ground pounder' for once.

"Sir yes sir!" he belched, snapping off a crisp salute.

Jim sighed. "Ian, I know you're having buckets of fun playing marine, but this is a combat zone," he said, then continued when he saw that Ian didn't get it, "When in a combat zone, its common practice not to salute superiors. There's nothing enemy snipers love more than a good officer."

"Yeah, but we're underground," the tech pointed out.

"Just shut up, quit saluting me and get Katsuragi to the commons area!" Jim bellowed, roughly handing over the unstable ship captain.

Katsuragi bounced from one set of armored arms to the other, and was quickly whisked away down a passage. At her last fleeting glimpse of Jim, she saw him turning back around to speak with Nanius. It was at that moment that every tactical bone in her body told her to accept defeat.

She'd fallen for Jim Goss.

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"So, bring me up to speed on what the hell's going on here," Jim said, walking beside Nanius as they strode through the corridors of the ancient Xel'Naga laboratory.

"I suppose you are referring to the situation here on Aiur, correct?" Nanius said, pulling his cloak tighter about his broad shoulders.

"Yeah."

"Very well," the zealot replied, starting in on the tale, "Following the deaths of Zeratul and Artanis four years ago, our species experienced a great schism. The fragile bond between the Nerazim and Khalai Protoss was shattered into a thousand pieces. Fleeing Shakuras, the separate Khalai tribes found refuge here on Aiur, our first return to it in almost a decade. At first, we cooperated, working with each other toward a new beginning.

"Then everything changed. Tribal leaders made political plays for power, plays that soon exceeded simple debate and spilled over into bloodshed. The dissonant tribes now war upon each other, bent upon exterminating any opposition to fashioning their own dominion. Control of this world is paramount in any budding emperor's plan for rule, and thus we have plunged as a species into a period greatly similar to the original Aeon of Strife, except now with our technological advancements, there is no end to our destructive capabilities."

"I didn't know it had gotten so bad," Jim muttered, his voice lost in the rambling corridors.

"Well, that is why you have come to this embattled place, is it not?" Nanius asked, the rhetorical question going unanswered as he continued, "Since the death of my brother and his son six years ago, the position of head of the Yatuj'a Tribe has fallen onto my inexperienced shoulders. We did not harbor much in the way of numbers to begin with, but following the destruction of Tarsonis, our strength dwindled to mere hundreds.

"With no other options open to me, I set my tribe up in scattered facilities like this one all across Aiur. It is from these positions that we wait, watch, calculate and on occasion, strike."

"Guerilla warfare," Jim muttered.

"Indeed," Nanius replied, just as their corridor emptied out into a larger room.

The floor, like the rest of the floor throughout the complex, was made of weathered stone. The walls had a golden sheen to them: brand new Protoss armor plating. An array of screens ascended from the ground, set in place by heavy golden bases. Set in the stone ceiling, providing power to the entire room, was a magnificent crystal blue pylon.

As Nanius entered, the screens turned on. They all displayed feed of the _Shogoki_, her hull dented and scuffed from the harsh landing. Protoss forces milled about it, their armor tinged with purple stripes at certain point.

"The Furinax Tribe," Nanius growled, "Former weapons crafters, they've become highly proficient in the art of un-honorable slaughter, thanks to the guidance of their newest leader, Executor Rasinar."

The screen directly in front of them magnified the feed, zooming in on one particular individual. Towering above his nearby subordinates, Executor Rasinar looked more like a statue to Jim than a living, breathing Protoss. The Dragoon before him seemed his equal height-wise and, scarily enough; it looked as if it would lose in a conflict with the Executor.

"Tall mother fucker, isn't he?" Jim observed.

"Yes," Nanius agreed, "But as your own Terran adage goes, the bigger they are-"

"-the harder they fall," Jim finished, "How do we do it?"

Nanius straightened, bringing his body to its full height. He popped on his psi lance, the sudden blue glow filling the chamber.

Jim nodded, the point taken. "I'll get the guys together."


	62. Chapter 62

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 62: Infiltration**

Night had fallen over the _Shogoki_, shrouding the area in darkness. Furinax forces moved about the crash site on silent patrols. They'd already established a camp of sorts from which to continue their hunt for the Terran survivors, but weren't really too eager to do so. Executor Rasinar had departed earlier in the day, taking with him their carrier support vessel, and the remaining troops were taking it easy.

Which made it all the easier for Specialist Tom Jefferies to slip through their perimeter.

Photon cannons had been warped into position around the crashed ship, but due to the uneven terrain, they couldn't be set at regular intervals. Gaps in the stealth detection grid had resulted, and were painfully obvious to spot. Jefferies slipped through a twenty-foot wide blind spot and into the interior of the camp.

Using both his Moebius Reactor's cloaking field and his natural instinct to stick to the shadows; Jefferies quickly stepped past a number of zealot sentries that were stationed to watch the blind spot. He moved further into the area, eventually reaching the side of the downed ship.

The _Shogoki_ lay amid a tangle of jungle shrubbery, magnificent even in its destruction. As he clambered silently up the side, Jefferies recalled the conversation he'd listened to between Ian and Jim concerning the destroyed ship.

Ian had pressed for repairs, claiming that with a little time and some Protoss robotics he and Hyuga could get it back up and running, a request that Jim had refused point blank on the grounds that more important things were afoot. Ian had thrown a bit of a tantrum; called Jim a baby-killing mother fucker and the discussion had come to a close.

Needless to say, Jefferies hadn't minded getting away for a bit.

The bow section of the _Shogoki_ was being used as a makeshift landing pad for a handful of shuttles. Their golden hulls looked like large, bulbous crabs, content to sleep beneath the light of Aiur's moon. Jefferies heard something clunking behind him and looked over his shoulder to see a Dragoon moving along the hull toward him, its robotic eye turret scanning back and forth for targets.

Dropping into a depression in the Neo-steel, Jefferies lay perfectly still as the Dragoon moved by above him, its four legs whirring with the servos contained within. As it passed, he caught a psionic emanation from inside the armored husk. It wasn't much, and hadn't been translated into English for proper understanding, but Jefferies did catch its tone. The revived warrior concealed within was, like so many soldiers Jefferies had met over the years, grumbling about being on guard duty.

After the mechanized walker had passed, Jefferies got up and continued on his way. He lightly stepped up alongside one of the parked shuttles and leaned against its hull, feeling the cold, alien metal through his stealth suit. He waited for a moment, making sure that there was no one inside the craft, and then entered with his C10 leading the way.

Working up into the cockpit, Jefferies mentally reviewed the workings of a shuttle. It had been a while since he'd hacked into one, but he hoped that it would come back to him soon enough. Settling in behind the monitor, he pulled a small ugly looking box out from one of his many pockets. The device was called a 'spoofer' and had been developed by an egghead with a hell of a lot more brains than Jefferies to do in five seconds what it would have taken him five days to accomplish.

However, as a typical piece of Dominion hardware, the lowest bidder made it. This fact wasn't lost on the one-eyed Ghost as he attached it to the correct bunch of cables, and he mentally crossed his fingers as he activated the spoofer.

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The shuttle's thrusters burst to life, illuminating the _Shogoki_'s bow section with glorious blue light. It raised up into the night sky, high above the camp, and started to move away. At that moment, the Protoss defenders noticed that they had not in fact ordered the shuttle's computer pilot to do such a thing, and they immediately scrambled to stop it.

Dragoons swung into action, zealots darted to oversee the positioning of more AA emplacements, and photon cannons rounded to take action against the offending shuttle. With the entire camp in disarray, none of the defenders heard, sensed or noticed three canister rounds banging into the defense mainframe.

The camp went dark, its temporary energy pylon grid snapping off in an instant. The photon cannons retreated back into their mounts, the light staffs sticking up out of the ground dimmed to blackness, and the Dragoons had to switch to night vision to see the shuttle, which by now was safely over the ridgeline and out of sight.

Jefferies made his way out of the command structure, his C10 smoking from its discharge into the defense computer. He sneaked away into the jungle, ordering the spoofer aboard the shuttle to park it safely behind a stand of trees. Then he knelt down in the undergrowth and waited, his body still shrouded in the constantly shifting lines of his cloaking device.

The night had become silent, save the creaking of some native insects, and the moonlight was even more prevalent now that the Protoss lighting had been extinguished. All was calm, and then the charges Jefferies had set went off.

Flames billowed into the air as a gateway, temporary cybernetics core and a backup pylon exploded into pieces. For dramatic effect, Jefferies had placed some incendiary charges in the trees, and now those were on fire as well, making the camp look like the embodiment of hell. Zealots ran about, confused at the recent turn of events.

Then, a Terran war cry split the air, and soon the Protoss defenders found themselves knee-deep in the reformed Dogs of War.


	63. Chapter 63

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 63: Seek and Destroy**

A D18 charge slammed into the side of a Dragoon, beeped twice, and exploded. The machine's main body now had a large gash in it, through which coolant was pouring out onto the ground. It was still standing, however, until Jim ran over to it. He jammed his Impaler's barrel into the opening and squeezed the trigger, letting spikes rip into the reincarnated Protoss within.

An inhuman psionic scream assaulted his mind, but he kept firing until his shots punched out the other side and dug into the ground. Withdrawing his weapon, Jim stepped back in time to see the walker collapse, crushing its turret component under the armor's weight. Without another thought, Jim ran over the downed Dragoon and into the full-fledged melee occurring within the camp proper.

Private Robinson fired three times with her massive positron rifle, vaporizing an enemy zealot dead in its tracks. Bits of ash were still raining down from the decimated warrior when a Dragoon rounded the destroyed remains of the command building; its phase disrupter aimed directly at Robinson. She began to turn toward the new enemy, but was clearly to slow. The Dragoon fired, and Robinson waited for the wash of blistering heat.

It never came.

At the last second, Nanius jumped in front of her, his left gauntlet projecting a body-sized legionnaire style blue energy shield, and took the antimatter bolt valiantly head on. The heat washed across his shield, the clash of power making the curved barrier blare an intense white color. Bellowing an angered war cry, Nanius rushed the Dragoon, his psi lance extending from his right gauntlet.

He jumped forward, slashing out at the Dragoon's right front leg. The blade cut straight through the limb, severing it from the main body in a spray of sparks and snapping of electrical tubing. Not about to go down without a fight, the Dragoon fired a volley of bolts toward Nanius. Jumping sideways, the nimble zealot avoided most of the shots.

One did manage to connect and drain his personal body shields, leaving him exposed. In a blur of movement, Nanius slid beneath the Dragoon, slicing upward with his oversized blade. The hull of the walker split open and its contents spilled out across Nanius, including the shriveled body that remained within.

Nanius threw the dead Protoss remains off and rolled out from beneath the gutted Dragoon, his body awash with luminescent coolant. A zealot jumped him, psi blades outstretched, and Nanius simply reacted. He ducked aside while at the same time lashing out with his psi lance. The enemy zealot fell, his legs removed in bloody sprays, and landed in the Dragoon's internal liquids.

Another zealot charged Nanius, in a superior position to which Nanius had no defense. The zealot was about to swing when a hail of spikes hit him squarely in the chest, driving him backwards, shuddering under the impacts. Jim walked past Nanius, still firing, and brought the zealot down with a final shot to the forehead.

"Saved your ass," Jim said, reloading his rifle.

A third zealot jumped at them, this one reaching promptly for Jim. Nanius reached around his friend and blocked the strike, made a reverse parry, and ran the other warrior through the stomach. He withdrew his lance in a spray of blue, and turned back to Jim.

"And I yours," he boomed whimsically.

Jim smiled and was about to respond when his COM link crackled to life.

"Jim? This is Nick. Furinax reinforcements are on their way. Looks like that carrier from earlier and a hell of a lot of interceptors."

Jim looked around the camp. In thirty seconds they'd managed to take out an enemy force that had outnumbered them three-to-one, not a small accomplishment by any means. However, they wouldn't live to celebrate if that carrier wasn't dealt with. Killing Rasinar was the top objective, and most likely that carrier would be instrumental in one way or another in accomplishing that objective.

Which was why the next part of the plan had to work perfectly.

"Pull back! Remember: this was a hit and run. Nothing more, nothing less," Jim said over the radio, then turned to the towering zealot next to him, "Lead the way."

"Of course," Nanius replied, striding off up the nearest hill.

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Rasinar stomped up the corridors of his flagship carrier, the _Hathor_, and entered the bridge. Instantly, the entire command crew turned to look at him. His second in command, a zealot named Soynal, stood up sharply at his entrance.

"En taro Adun, Executor!" he said, saluting Rasinar with a fist-to-chest gesture.

"En taro Adun, Soynal," Rasinar replied, returning the gesture, "What has come of our ground encampment?"

"Sensors detected a high energy spike from the position half a cycle ago," Soynal said, pulling up a high resolution hologram in the center of the spacious bridge, "As you can no doubt ascertain by these images, hardly any of our brothers remain from the attack. However, one shuttle and its crew did manage to make it away from the attack."

"What of it?" Rasinar pressed.

"We let it dock in our hanger, Executor. I am certain the attack came from the Terran survivors. They must have-"

Soynal's head exploded in a vicious spray of blue blood, white skull and stringy remnants of brain matter. Most of this violent discharge splattered across Rasinar's face, a fact that greatly disgusted him. He whirled around and looked at the entrance to the bridge, where a group of Terran soldiers and one zealot stood, their weapons trained on his bridge crew.

One marine flipped his visor up to reveal that he was smoking. "Howdy, boys," he said, "How y'all doing today?"


	64. Chapter 64

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 64: Watery Grave**

For a moment, the bridge of the super carrier flagship _Hathor_ was silent. No one moved, and the tension seemed thick enough to be described as tangible. It was a full five minutes before one of the command crew, the helmsman, tried a move. He stood in a blur, ready to rush the infiltrators with his bare hands.

Ian pumped half a magazine into him, slightly overkill considering that the Protoss was only wearing a robe. His body was punched up against a wall, stuck there by the hypersonic impacts of the 8mm spikes.

"Kill 'em all!" Jim bellowed, whipping his Impaler up into firing position.

The combat team fired, ripping into the unarmored bridge crew. Blood splashed and rifles roared, the racket compounded by the enclosed space into a deafening wail that wracked one's senses. Finally, when all the crewmembers were lying dead on the ground or pinned to the walls like bleeding piñatas, Jim motioned for Jefferies to seal the door.

Rasinar hadn't been wearing armor either, and his robe was now torn and bloodied by enemy weapons fire. He lay at the center of the bridge on his raised command pedestal, his lifeblood spilling across the golden plating like a slick coat of polish. He watched as the Terran Ghost attached the ever-handy spoofer to the door's control panel and ordered it shut.

Now with the bridge sealed against any remaining crewmembers, Jim started orchestrating the ship's hijacking. "Nanius, get to work on the course correction. Ian, check the engineering console and see if we can't overload this bastard's engines. Jefferies, Nick and Robinson, watch the door," he ordered, "I'm gonna have a little chat with our friend here."

Rasinar stuck his balled up fist into the slippery remains of what used to be his stomach, trying desperately to stem the bleeding for as long as he could.

"Hey," Jim said, kneeling down beside the dying Executor, "You know, I'm not a telepath by any means. But to read your mind, I don't really have to be. You're wondering just how the hell a mismatched group of Terran bastards like my comrades and I could have managed to get all the way up into your bridge.

"Pretty easy, actually. See, all it took was hacking one of your shuttle's computer systems, which was so easy it's laughable. Then we got clearance to land on your ship here, which was also laughably easy. Then we had to make our way up here, which posed a bit of a problem. However, with a little bit of hacking and Terran ingenuity, we managed to lock off all access passageways, making our trip up here a breeze of undetectability.

"And now you're getting angry. Well, save your strength big fellow. Anger increases blood flow, which means you'd be pouring more shit out all over the floor. That's no good. Don't you want to be alive when your ship goes crashing down a vespene geyser and explodes in a ball of plasma?"

Jim reached out and patted Rasinar on the head, flaunting his superior position. "Please, don't thank me. It's the least I could do after you shot down my ship and killed half my crew," he said, then stood to look at the front of the bridge, "Nanius! How's it coming?"

"The ship's course has been corrected true as a mystic's foresight, Major," Nanius said, then gestured at Rasinar, "However, this wicked one's course into the Khala's embrace is less certain."

"Well put," Jim said, "Ian? The engines?"

"If Jefferies ugly little box here is correct, then I've set the thing for absolute overload the instant it hits the geyser's bottom," the tech replied without looking away from the spoofer's screen, "Of course, if its wrong, then I just set it to spin around in circles and draw a penis with its thruster exhaust."

"You've got a strange mind, my boy," Jefferies said, taking the spoofer back and pocketing it.

"Look who's talking," Nick muttered, leading the way off the bridge.

Jim aimed and blew the helm controls apart with a sustained burst from his Impaler, blasting them into unworkable garbage. Then he, too, followed them off the bridge, leaving Rasinar alone to barrel toward his inexorable destiny.

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The ground whipped by beneath the _Hathor_, the super carrier's new course taking it over a desolate part of Aiur. Grey rock had replaced jungle, bucking up in places to form small mounds with open tops, belching clouds of green gas out into the night sky. This area, known as the central vespene fields, was the highest concentration of vespene gas geysers on the surface of Aiur.

As the shuttle dislodged itself from the bowels of the _Hathor_, Jim got his first look at the area. It looked like a divine being had made Aiur, the most pristine and beautiful planet in the known galaxy, and stepped back from his work. Then the divine being had decided that it was to perfect, and made this ugly place of green smoke and desolate gray.

A pimple on the ass of greatness, he decided.

The _Hathor_ sped away from them, flying toward one of the largest geysers in the fields, and nose-dived into it. Its golden hull banged back and forth off the walls of the geyser, descending deep into the depths of its embrace, until it reached the liquid bottom. Here, the mighty Protoss vessel splashed down, its frame enveloped by a thick green ooze.

And then the engines detonated.

The sky lit up with a brilliant blue flash, splashing the night with rays of watercolor sprays that assaulted Jim's retina and left an afterimage from hell. The vast underground deposit of vespene caught fire, exploding as well. The entire field ruptured, becoming unstable and blowing outward, and then collapsing down into the cavern below.

In the end, the fields were gone, replaced by a giant, glowing pool of luminescent green vespene liquid.

"Huh, didn't really expect the chain reaction," Nick observed.

"Yeah, neither did I," Jim admitted, "Oh well. Let's get out of here."


	65. Chapter 65

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 65: Empathy**

Rasinar felt pressure, sinking, descending into an enveloping darkness. He was drowning, being pulled down by his own weight, deeper into a natural vat of vespene. Then, suddenly, a hand grasped his psionic tendrils and yanked him up. His face popped out of the liquid and his body soon followed as he was hauled up onto a cold, hard piece of steel.

At first, all he could do was gasp for air through every pore in his blue-purple skin, letting the air fill his lungs and bring him back from the brink of eternal blackness. Then, after sufficient time re-cooperating, he tried to figure out where he was. Or, more accurately, _what_ he was.

His hands had become blackened before his eyes, shifting to the dark sheen. The cracks between his scales glowed a faint green, and a throbbing sounded in his mind. He bucked, his back arching, and let out a long psionic howl. Thrashing about, he ended up on his back, staring up into the interior of what he guessed was an airlock of some ship.

Standing above him was a Terran female, her red hair flowing down around her shoulders. A black cloak adorned her body and as she reached out with a hand to touch Rasinar's face, he saw very clearly a warp gauntlet adorning her forearm.

"Be still, Executor. Your body is changing and it is painful, but soon everything will be alright again," she said, then looked away toward some other person, "Take him to the infirmary! Stabilize him and keep me informed of his progress! Do it now!"

Rasinar felt hands grab him and tried to identify their source, but then the pain overwhelmed him. He slipped into unconsciousness.

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Jim stepped out of the shuttle and onto the grassy top of the plateau. It had taken them a while to get back to the island, and by now the sun was peaking its inquisitive head over the horizon, casting long rays across the assembled people. Jim had his helmet off and the gentle breeze moved his dirty and tousled hair, despite the sweat that had dried in it. He desperately needed a shower, a shave and probably a shit, but at the moment that could wait.

Aiur's sunrise was worth putting off simple hygiene.

"Awe inspiring, is it not?" Nanius said, stepping up next to Jim, "Though I have seen it countless times, the celestial rising of my home world's star never ceases to caress my soul and warm my spirit."

"Yeah," was all Jim could manage.

He'd tried once to match Nanius' poetic tendencies of speech, an attempt which had been riddled with stutters and backtracks and ended with the Protoss warrior showing him up with a better constructed criticism than Jim's initial statement had been. After that, Jim had just stuck to what he knew: curses, shouts and homespun philosophy.

Jefferies stepped out onto the grass, looked at the sunrise, and continued on his way. Jim was sure that the cynical ghost had not only seen the sight before, but that he simply deemed it unworthy of attention in light of other things.

Nick walked out after Jefferies, his helmet off and mounted on his belt. He was keeping up a conversation with Private Robinson, and the two of them seemingly were enjoying speaking with one another. Jim wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he even saw a smile cross the Reaper's face. A genuine one, not a bloodthirsty combat-crazed one. It was an odd sight, but not one that was at all unwelcome.

Ian came out last, fiddling with the spoofer. He was so engrossed in his tinkering that he nearly tripped over a rock. He managed to balance himself quickly and without taking a nasty fall, something that spoke volumes of how fast he'd managed to master the art of moving in combat armor. Jim made a mental note to ask Ian about how he'd feel going full-time ground pounder, though he was sure the younger man would balk at becoming a 'baby killer'.

Jim watched the rest of the team file into a secret entrance, disappearing into the recesses of the ancient Xel'Naga research center that Nanius called home. After they had gone, he looked over at the tall zealot.

"Nanius, I've got a question," Jim said.

"And I will no doubt harbor an answer," Nanius replied.

"Why weren't you with your brother running this tribe longer? I mean to say, just what the hell were you doing with Massadar when we found you all those years ago?" Jim asked.

Nanius made a psionic noise like someone taking a long sigh. "It is a long story, Jim," he said.

"Well, with our ship downed over there, I've got plenty of time," Jim countered.

"Indeed you do. Fine, then. I shall tell you. But before I do so, you must understand one thing," Nanius said, "I have never told anyone of the events that shaped me. Not a soul, Protoss or Terran. The fact that I will tell you signifies my deep respect for you as an individual. You contain within your soul great honor, Jim Goss, but also great pain. That, is why I feel as though I may empathize with you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jim said, feeling truly as though he did. Forget the sunrise. Nanius had some heavy stuff to say, and Jim was rapt with attention.

"Then let us begin," Nanius said, drawing a deep mental breath…


	66. Chapter 66

**Author's Note: Hey, sorry about last Friday. I really did mean to update. I just got a case of...the fuckits, i guess. Anyway, here's the update. Some of you might call it late, but I disagree. It has been aged to perfection. Have a good read, and remember: reviewing cleans the mind and soul!**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 66: Shadows**

"My father was, as his father before him, the head of the Yatuj'a Tribe," Nanius began, "During his 586 years of living, he fought many battles, leading our meager fleet into battle with Zerg expeditionary forces and Nerazim war bands. After every expedition into the vastness of space, he would return and regale me with tales of his travels and the conflicts he waged against the enemies of the Kahla."

The poetic warrior stopped, no doubt collecting his thoughts before continuing. Jim got the distinct impression that Nanius had not only ceased to share this information with anyone, but that he wasn't totally warmed to the idea of doing it now. It even seemed as though his thoughts on the matter weren't completely sorted out.

Finally, he picked back up. "I wished to be just like him, my father. While Ruktoch would seek inspiration from tales of Adun, Khas and other legendary warriors and mystics, I would seek it from my father and no one else. To my youthful mind, he was the mightiest Protoss ever to live, and though time has proven my admiration for idolizing his fighting strengths to be unwarranted, I still hold true the belief that he was the most noble tribal leader ever.

"Which, I suppose, is why I find his downfall to by so tragic," Nanius said, his tone bearing a heap of sadness accompanied by a tinge of bitter anger, "My father loved your species, Jim. Truly adored the Terran race, a very open-minded opinion that none amongst his contemporaries shared. Though our tribe was small, it still held a seat in the Conclave senate.

"There, from the rising of this sun that bathes us with its warmth as I tell you of these long dead events to its setting, he would debate with all the power that small seat provided. He would question and he would propose a fresh, unique perspective on interactions with your race. My father was an admirable Protoss, and he was never one to desist from his opinion.

"In the end, the senate silenced him. I was in the forum when it occurred. In a flash of energy and spray of blood, I lost everything."

Nanius fell silent, looking away from Jim to fix his blue eyes on the rising sun. In that moment, despite all his strength and combat prowess, Nanius looked impossibly aged beyond his 107 years. Without looking back at Jim, he continued.

"Unable to hold in my emotions any longer, I fled. Like so many others who have felt the stinging wrath of the Conclave's betrayal, I fled. Like a coward abandoning the sinking ship, I fled. Ever since then I have carried a weight of dishonor, for running in the face of a problem is not the Protoss way," he said.

"Neither is murder," Jim put in.

Nanius looked back to Jim, locking their eyes. "That, Jim Goss, is why we are friends. You are able to look past the obvious value of a statement and see it for its true meaning," he said, "You are correct: murder is not the Protoss way. That is another reason I fled. The Conclave's corruption was stripped of its dressing, laid bare before my eyes in the exposing light of truth, and it scared me.

"I took refuge with Massadar's Rebels, seeking to outrun my past. It was there that I met you, my friend, and the rest is history."

Silence pervaded the plateau, save for the gentle wind that blew across it. Jim let all that Nanius had said sink in, letting the knowledge find a foothold in his mental landscape of the complex personality profile he had built for his Protoss friend.

"Thanks, Nanius," he said at last, "I think I finally get you."

Nanius shook his head. "I'm afraid that is beyond possible," he said, "As I do not fully 'get' myself, it is impossible for you to do so. However, I thank you for making an effort to understand my complexities."

"Anytime," Jim said, trying a reassuring grin on for size, "Let's head in. I'm hungry."

"No, you may go on without my company. I shall remain here, basking in the light of the new day," Nanius said, turning away, pulling his cloak closer about him.

Jim nodded. "Suit yourself," he said, then turned to hurry inside the research facility.

Nanius stayed behind, looking at the sunrise with his body as still as a statue. The only movement of his frame was his Bengalaas cape as it swayed in time with the nearby tall grass.

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Rasinar awoke to the feeling of something strapped across his chest. He opened his eyes, trying to make out where he was, and was rewarded with a dark colored blur. This absence of distinction angered him, and he could feel blood rushing to his head in a fit of rage. He let out a psionic roar, swelled his chest, and snapped the barrier that had been holding him back.

He had taken two steps forward when his vision finally cleared and he was able to identify the room he was in. The place was small; its walls slick and dark colored. Lighting came indirectly from strip lamps pointed at the ceiling, which then reflected them toward the ground, a tactic that generated long shadows and thickly black corners.

A lifetime of navigating ship corridors told Rasinar that he was on a spacecraft of some sort, not only from the confined nature of the room but from the subtle way the floor shifted beneath his footing. But still, the greater mystery of just where he was still confounded Rasinar, and his anger began welling up within him again.

He tried to figure out why he was becoming so easily irritated, but when no answer could be found he became angrier. He began thrashing about the room, breaking small medical trays and shattering glass test tubes. Reaching back, he prepared to punch a mirror into oblivion, but stopped upon seeing his own reflection.

His scales were black, blacker even than the walls around him, like he had been burned black by some cataclysmic fire. The space between his scaled glowed, creating a weaving, intricate path of narrow green across his entire body. His eyes were blazing green, a sickly bright color that Rasinar found slightly disturbing, but moreover fascinating. The wounds to his stomach were neatly healed up, replaced by perfectly good skin and bone.

On a hunch, he willed energy into his wrists. Immediately, flaming green blades of energy appeared from his body, strong enough to slice through Neo-steel. What had made him like this?

"Terrazine gas."

Rasinar nearly jumped at the sudden words, whirling on the entrance door. The same Terran woman he'd seen before blacking out was there, her body still clothed in a black cloak.

"Your carrier exploded," she explained, "In a vespene geyser. The plasma explosion set off a chemical reaction that altered the vespene within the fields to Terrazine. Your body was exposed to it, and therefore it altered you," she explained, "Judging by the broken instruments around this room, you've already experienced the rage symptom."

"Who are you?" he bellowed, feeling much warranted anger.

"Who I am is not important. What I can do for you, however, is," she explained, stepping away from the doorframe, "You've been given a rather unique gift, Executor Rasinar. This…infection, as some might call it, could be a new genesis for the Protoss species, a new genesis that you could help to propagate, or at the very least, use to start your empire."

Even through his raging haze of confusion, Rasinar could see what she was proposing, and it seemed sensible. "And I suppose you get something out of it as well?" he asked.

She smiled. "Indeed. I need something in the possession of the Akilae Tribe: a Xel'Naga artifact. However, I have neither the firepower nor the manpower to get to it. That, is where you and your tribe come in," she said, "Final deal is: I help you understand and control your new powers, and you get me that artifact. Deal?"

"Indeed it shall be."

Her smile broadened.


	67. Chapter 67

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 67: Broken Steel**

It wasn't until later in the day that a decision was finally made to venture out to the _Shogoki_. Ian led the way in his tech flak jacket, a tool belt hung loosely about his hips and a slugthrower holstered at his thigh. A trio of Protoss probes trailed him, courtesy of Nanius' personal supply, beeping happily at their change of scenery.

Jim followed him closely, his tee shirt worn through with sweat from the humid Aiur afternoon. An AGR-14 was slung over his right shoulder, easily in reach if anything went awry. In light of the fact that the island was literally honeycombed with Nanius' camouflaged sensors and cameras, Jim felt relatively safe. If something did happen to attack, then at least they would have sufficient warning. Powered armor wasn't really necessary.

Katsuragi and Hyuga had decided to come along as well, probably out of some compulsion to check up on their vessel. Jim understood completely. Hell, he didn't feel comfortable leaving the old girl on her own either. As soon as he thought that, he felt silly. Yeah, like a multi-ton hunk of Neo-steel armor really needed his love and care to sit through a dark night.

Jefferies tagged along in the back, clearly regretting the choice of wearing his full stealth suit into the steamy jungle. He carried his C10 with him, and when asked by Jim why he was coming along, he had mentioned something about checking to see if Jenkins was still alive and kicking within the crashed ship. It seemed to Jim like the Ghost had taken a liking to the little larva.

The rest of the team had stayed behind in the facility, making excuses ranging from 'I'm really tired' (Nick McCabe) to 'my suit's not cleaned' (Floyd Watson) to get out of the work. In the end, Jim had decided that he didn't give a shit. All he wanted to do was assess the damage and grab some personal belongings out of his cabin. He'd gotten rather good at packing and moving his footlocker in a timely manner, though it seemed that he'd been moving it a little too much lately.

If they could get the ship back up and running, then fine. If not, they'd just have to find an alternate way off Aiur. It seemed a bit cold to just regard a ship with as much character as the _Shogoki_ in an 'oh well' way, but a decision had to be made. Since his uniform had the major rank on it, the responsibility fell to him.

They broke the edge of the clearing and got a good look at the ship. It was the first time Jim had been able to get a glimpse of it in the daylight without the worry of enemy weapons fire killing him.

One wing was broken off as well as a massive engine. The front end was crunched up like a pop can and various spots across the hull were dented heavily with the myriad of impacts it sustained in its rather unconventional landing. As a testament to how determined the Aiur fauna could be, vines were already making tentative expeditions up its Neo-steel sides in the beginnings of a takeover.

"Poor thing," Katsuragi muttered, her tone like she was looking at a lost puppy. Jim made a mental note that this particular puppy had more bite than a thousand fully grown dogs, with much thicker hide to match.

They entered single file, with Ian leading. Jim was glad to see that the kid at least had enough sense to pull out his slugthrower before entering, something he had been concerned about the whole trip down. When they had all squeezed through the destroyed emergency airlock, Katsuragi and Hyuga started off up a special access ladder.

Katsuragi turned to look at Jim, her flashlight shined toward him. "We're gonna go check the bridge, see what's destroyed and what isn't," she explained.

"Got it," Jim said, "I'll be in my quarters. Call me if anything goes wrong."

The UED captain seemed to linger for a second, but eventually just nodded and headed up the ladder, following Hyuga.

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Jefferies picked his way through the paraphernalia that littered C deck's main corridor. Most of the rooms had been open when the crash took place and as a result most of everyone's belongings on that deck had been strewn out into the hall. Why in hell the rooms had been opened, Jefferies had no idea and could only speculate.

He made his way to the room that he shared with Nick and found its door wedged only partially open. Using his canister rifle as a makeshift lever, he managed to push the heavy piece of steel completely aside. He stepped in, careful not to trip on Nick's footlocker, and made his way to the center of the room. He crouched down and looked under both beds, checking for his little multi-legged friend. Though he steadfastly refused to call out Jenkins's name, Jefferies knew that if the little larva was in here it definitely was aware of him.

A slight scuffling sound came out of one of the air vents up in the wall, and Jefferies looked up to see two large black eyes staring back at him.

"I see your penchant for ducting away has gotten the better of you," Jefferies said to the quivering creature, "Come on, now. Its time to go."

But Jenkins didn't come on. In fact, the little larva looked afraid. Jefferies peered closer at it, only to see that it wasn't looking at him, but rather at a point behind him somewhere. Without looking back, Jefferies reached out with his mind.

Immediately, he sensed someone or something behind him, watching his interaction with the larva. It seemed relaxed, probably leaning against the door frame if his judge of character was right, and most maddeningly of all, it knew he was aware of it. He tried placing its origin, but to no avail. Whatever it was, it was definitely not friendly.

At once, Jefferies committed himself fully, spinning around with his C10 ready to fire, only to be greeted with an empty doorway, beyond which lay the hallway. Jefferies was alone in the room, alone on C deck, and alone in the knowledge of what he'd sensed. Confused, irritated and more than a tad freaked out, he turned back to get Jenkins.


	68. Chapter 68

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 68: High Hopes**

Katsuragi's bridge smelled like wet jungle canopy, but she couldn't possibly care less. Her thoughts were entirely elsewhere. Hyuga stepped quickly across the control room, around the tactics table and up to his helm console. As he sat down on the cock-eyed seat, he began to try and reboot the instruments.

For her part, Katsuragi was content to look around the room and get an assessment of the damage that was incurred during the crash. The tactics table's top was spider-webbed from a monitor that had fallen on top of it, and glass littered the floor from the broken main screens. Aiur's jungle shone through the place where they'd been, its lush vegetation swaying gently in a breeze coming in off the ocean.

An image flashed into the forefront of Katsuragi's mind, an image of her and Jim wading in that ocean just over the rise in front of them. The sun reflected perfectly off the deep blue of the water, carrying with it millions of sparkling points of light that danced across both of their bodies. Jim leaned over to her, wrapping and arm around her waist and-

"Fuck!" she shouted, getting the image out of her head.

Hyuga jumped about a foot into the air. "Shit! What!?" he shrieked.

"Um," Katsuragi started, "The, uh, tactics table's broken. Fuck!"

"Oh, got it," Hyuga replied, eating up her lame excuse like so many pounds of bullshit.

Sighing, Katsuragi collapsed back into her command chair. It wheezed plaintively, but held her nonetheless.

These weird fantasies had been plaguing her for the past weeks, jumping forward at the most inconvenient of times. Aside from causing her to become insurmountably distracted with wanting thoughts for her coworker, they also served to deepen her already all-consuming feelings for him. Katsuragi looked around her bridge, realizing that if they ever managed to bring the ship back up to operational status she'd need to be fit to command it. And there wasn't a chance in hell of her being fit to command if a bunch of longing feelings were swimming around in her head the whole time.

"Hyuga, I'll be right back," she said, standing and turning her flashlight back on.

"Okay, ma'am," he replied.

Hyuga turned around to say more, but his captain was already gone, disappearing deep into the bowels of the wrecked ship called _Shogoki_.

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Ian scampered up a stepladder and poked his head into the cracked but not functioning plasma engine coupling. Shining his flashlight in, he observed what kind of damage the massive coupling had taken during the unconventional landing. In the time that Ian had been on the _Shogoki_, he'd managed to learn as much about her as humanly possible.

Hyuga had explained the bridge controls to him and even gone as far as to lend him as much reading material on the ship's design as possible. Of course, most of the classified documents didn't come out of hiding, hence the word 'classified', but Hyuga had managed to slip him a few out of friendship. Most of Ian's knowledge about the engine compartment, including this particular coupling, had come from Dr. Samantha Atari.

Damn, but she'd been nice. Funny, too, and not particularly bad on the eyes. Ian wasn't crazy, and he wouldn't dare classify what he'd thought of Atari as love. That said, a little more time with her wouldn't have been bad. Who knew? Maybe they could have been something…

Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind, Ian focused on the task at hand. Due to a vain attempt at stabilizing the ship during the spiraling fall that led to the crash itself, more energy than normal had been forced through the coupling, burning off quite a bit of its internal shielding. Taking note of the issue, Ian stepped back down the ladder and assigned one of his probes to fix the matter.

All in all, he figured the vessel would be up and running in a week total. Not too bad considering he was just one guy with some borrowed Protoss technology. Smiling, Ian began heading for Jim's quarters. He needed to ask for more equipment from Nanius, and that meant asking Jim to ask the Protoss warrior/poet.

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Katsuragi knocked on the open doorframe, looking into the darkness with her flashlight. An AGR was propped firmly against Jim's bedpost, the only thing in the room that was sitting upright. Everything else, lamps, dressers and even the bedside table had been overturned in the crash. At her feet were a trio of picture frames, their glass shattered.

Looking down, Katsuragi made one out as the Dogs of War group photo. They all looked so much younger, even though it was hard to imagine that six whole years had passed. Good God had it really been that long?

"Katsuragi?" Jim called from within, "That you?"

"Uh, yeah," she replied, her thoughts interrupted.

Appearing with his own flashlight out of the bathroom, Jim looked over at her. "You need something?" he asked.

Katsuragi nodded, unable to quite speak yet.

"Well come on in," Jim said.

He headed off to the other side of the room, his boots stamping on the carpeted floor with a great sense of purpose. Kneeling, he picked up his upside down footlocker and sat it on his bed. Flipping the locks off, he opened it up, giving its contents a once-over for any damage. Everything looked to be intact, which was more than he could say for his pictures.

He was halfway through the process of making a mental note to store them during flight when Katsuragi spun him around and kissed him.


	69. Chapter 69

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 69: Out of Obscurity**

They stayed still for a full minute, their lips locked, each waiting for the other to make the next move, or lack thereof. Neither of them pushed against the other, their lips not moving at all. They didn't even breathe. In fact, it was probably the deadest kiss that either of them had ever had. Finally, Jim did something: he pushed her back with a forceful shove.

"What in the _hell_?" he asked, wiping his mouth with a forearm as though she had poisoned him.

"I, um," she began, "Um, are you okay?"

"Fuck no I'm not okay!" Jim shouted, "You fucking kissed me! Katsuragi, what in the name of God were you thinking!"

"I…Jim…I think I like you," she said, feebly trying to articulate to him what she had known for the past three weeks.

"You _think_? Really? Well, did you stop to think what this could do to our working relationship? We're on an alien planet, surrounded by a bunch of angry Protoss tribes! Neither of us can afford to be distracted by a relationship and get ourselves and the rest of the team killed! Did you think about that, Katsuragi?"

She really had, and that was what she was doing here. She was trying to stop herself from being killed, but she didn't really have to command much in ground engagements, which left her not doing anything. Jim had all their lives in his hands via his position as the head commander at all times, a fact that she had been ignorant of. Maybe they weren't right for each other; maybe she was just having some stupid little girl's crush.

"Jim, I'm sorry that I-"

Suddenly, the man who had just been chastising her for rushing too quickly into things swept her up off the ground and threw her onto his bed. Jumping on top of her, Jim kissed her, putting their earlier smooch to shame. She kissed back with a vengeance, their tongues intertwining in a deep, passionate moment.

Finally, he pulled back and looked into her eyes. Looking back, she could see that he had arrived in two minutes at the same decision it had taken her all of three weeks to find.

"So," she said, biting her lip, "What about that stuff you just said? About relationships being distractions and potentially deadly?"

Jim grinned, his teeth showing. "Fuck all that."

And then their lips met again. Jim had just begun to slide his hand up under her uniform when a flashlight beam played across them.

"Hey, sir? I was just wondering-"

"Ian! Get the fuck out of here!" Jim roared, his voice echoing in the enclosed space.

"Whoa, getting frisky in here, are we?" the tech asked, the beginnings of a shit-faced grin spreading across his features.

"Get the fuck out of here or I'll shoot you!" Katsuragi shouted, her voice just as loud as Jim's.

Without further pause, Ian scampered away down the corridor, his flashlight bouncing away as he ran.

Jim gazed down at her. "You got him to leave," he said, disbelief evident in his voice.

Katsuragi smirked and folded her arms behind her head. "I'm just that good."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Jim said, leaning down onto her.

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Half a mile away, Nanius stared impassively at one of his many display screens. On it was a live report from one of his tribal branches, this one located near the main Furinax base on the northern hemisphere of Aiur. A recon party had been sent out, just to check and make sure nothing was awry in the aftermath of Rasinar's death.

However, there was much awry. In fact, the entire base had gone what Jim would call 'ape shit crazy'. Looking at the screen, Nanius would have had to agree.

Everything from the lowest ranked zealot to the most experienced High Templar was mobilizing into one big caravan. Even the photon turrets looked more prepared than normal, fluctuating up and down in their metallic bases like overactive moles.

As of yet, it was unclear as to where they were headed, but most sources were pointing toward the newly christened 'Lake of Green Death' that had been created in the former Vespene Fields. Nanius knew that the plasma reaction had created what the Terran called Terrazine, a volatile chemical that could kill any organism if given sufficient contact, out of the former Vespene.

It had been what had killed Rasinar, his skin rotting quicker than any human due to the direct…

Nanius came to a sudden realization, and immediately spun on his heel to warn Jim of this new development.


	70. Chapter 70

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 70: Unto the Dream**

Jefferies could tell something was wrong the instant he saw Nanius. Though outwardly the tall Protoss was completely composed, his thoughts were in a rush of anxiety. Something was deeply troubling Nanius to the core of his being, and he thought it important enough to march down to the _Shogoki_ and tell Jim in person, which said a lot.

"Something wrong?" he asked, stepping out of the airlock he'd been standing in and into Nanius' path.

"You have greatly understated the graveness of our current predicament," Nanius replied, "Fetch the Major. Interrupt his procreation if need be, but at all circumstances you must get him to the facility at once. This is paramount."

"Wait a minute. Procreation?" Jefferies asked.

"Indeed," Nanius said, "He and Captain Katsuragi are engaging in it as we speak. You were not aware of this?"

"Hell no!" Jefferies said, "When did they become a thing?"

"About fifteen minutes ago," Ian said as he walked up, munching on a bite of a sandwich, "Something up?"

"Yeah, Nanius here needs to get everyone up the hill pronto," Jefferies explained for the statuesque zealot.

Ian nodded, gulping down his food. He unlatched a walkie-talkie from his belt and held it up to his mouth, depressing the talk button. "Hey Major. Nanius says we all need to get up to his base ASAP. Come back, over," Ian said, winking at Nanius, who merely stared back.

_"Can it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of something."_

"Yeah, man we're busy with this ship business right now," Ian complained, "What is it, anyway?"

"The matter at hand involves Rasinar," Nanius said.

Ian nodded. "Jim, its about Rasinar."

_"I'll be right up."_

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Twenty minutes later, the entire crew was assembled in the control room. On the screen before them was live feed from an observer unit, dispatched from one of Nanius' varied underground complexes around the planet. Jim watched as the green jungles of Aiur whipped by beneath the observer's ever-watchful eye, blurring into one continuous smudge.

Eventually, the green pealed back to reveal a dead gray landscape, dominated at the center by a glowing pit of luminescent liquid.

Terrazine.

Jim hated the stuff. All it did was kill everything it touched; though if Nanius' theory was right, it might have another effect on subjects. The discovery would be amazing, spectacular even. But in this case, it also had the potential to be a terrible, terrible thing.

As the observer closed with the southern shoreline, Furinax buildings became visible. A Nexus, Gateway and assorted power pylons were all Jim could make out before the observer magnified its feed to show the figures immediately on the beach. Most of them were just regular zealots, standing at attention before their leader.

Their leader.

Rasinar, for that was the only Protoss Jim knew of that could possibly be _that_ tall, stood in front of the assembled zealots. His scaled skin had been turned pitch black, with green glowing through between them. His eyes were piercing coals of hatred, boring down on the soldiers before him. By the gestures he was making with his hands, Jim could tell he was making a riveting speech.

Clearly, the Terrazine exposure had changed him. How was as of yet unclear, though Jim couldn't imagine it being good in any way. He just _looked_ evil.

"It is with great despair and not a shred of gloating that I must pronounce my theory correct," Nanius said, his psionic voice gentle but firm, "Rasinar has indeed been altered."

Jim was about to agree and propose a plan of action, when he spotted something next to Rasinar. His blood went cold, and he suddenly felt a cramp in his stomach. A cloaked figure stood there, on the shore, its hood back and a mane of red hair billowed about her pretty Terran face. She looked away from the towering mutant Protoss next to her and gazed directly into the camera.

Asuka winked, and the observer imploded.


	71. Chapter 71

**Author's Note: I don't really have much to say aside from here's another update. I'm sure you already realized that, but whatever. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these chapters and I hope to have this story finished up in a timely manner. Remember: review, even if you don't have a profile. It helps, and don't you forget it.**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 71: Cold Shafts of Broken Glass**

Asuka stood on the shore of the great Terrazine lake, her arms folded inside her long black robe. The robe concealed multiple things, including a C20 canister rifle, slung under her left armpit on a leather strap. Though not a very typical choice for a dark templar weapon, Asuka wasn't about to give it up. She'd been weaned on firearms as mainline weapons, a habit that died hard even with a couple thousand personal fighting styles cooped up in her head.

Rasinar was in front of her, wading waist high in the Terrazine as he ceremoniously baptized one zealot at a time. He was really eating this 'new genesis' shit right up, and Asuka was only happy to spoon-feed it to him. Asuka knew what the Terrazine mutation would do to the affected Protoss in the long run and it certainly wasn't pleasant.

But for the moment, Rasinar and his soon-to-be-fully-altered tribe would be a powerful ally. What happened to them later on was of no concern, as Asuka would have her artifact and be just that much closer to-

Something tingled at the edge of her senses. Slowly, she turned around and looked back at the base that the Furinax Tribe had established. All the buildings still gleamed golden in the midday light, and nothing seemed out of place. However, something was definitely off.

"Solyntus," she said.

Immediately, the armored zealot was at her side. Shakuras leadership had excommunicated Asuka shortly after it realized that she had no intent to give back what she had gained from the Khalis crystal of Knowledge. She hadn't really cared, as she'd already gotten all she wanted out of the dark templar. Moving on, she had begun to hunt down any Xel'Naga artifacts littered around the cosmos, trying to unravel a mystery that had eluded many before her.

Thankfully, she found someone just as enthusiastic as she was, if not more so. Ranyt had been a fantastic find, and since his situation was very similar to Asuka's own in more ways than one, they got along perfectly. For the moment, Ranyt had been kind enough to loan her his second in command, a well-respected bodyguard and warrior named Solyntus.

"Yes, Mistress?" he said, his thoughts betraying that he loathed using any title other than the Protoss equivalent of 'skank ho bitchface' when referring to her.

"Do you sense anything awry?" she asked.

"No, I do not," Solyntus replied, "Should I?"

Asuka didn't respond immediately, instead electing to peer at a rise above the base. Reaching inside her robe, she pulled out her C20 and put it to her shoulder. Pressing her cheek to the dura-plastic stock, she sighted through the scope. Running the crosshair over the burnt rise, she didn't see anything. Suddenly, a face appeared in the scope.

The face was undeniably Terran, with black hair and a weathered expression. Seeing her looking, Jim pulled his head back from the rim. Smirking, Asuka slipped the compact rifle back into its place beneath her robes.

"Mistress?" Solyntus asked.

"Gather four zealots," Asuka said, "We're taking a quick hike."

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Jim recoiled from being spotted as though physically struck; pulling back from the brim of the hill like Asuka had lunged at him. The sight was not lost on Nick, who saw fit to comment.

"She saw you," he stated.

"Well, she's a telepath," Jim countered.

"She saw you," Nick repeated.

Jim glared at the Reaper. "Come on, man, she can sense thoughts," he said, "The same thing would have happened to you."

"She-"

"Saw you," Jim sighed, "I know, I know."

Looking back down the slope, Jim saw his team's backup. Nanius had seen fit to not only come along on this little reconnaissance mission, but also to bring half a platoon of zealots with him, something Jim found to be more than a little silly. He had told Nanius so, citing that a recon force was supposed to be small to accommodate the stealth element at the heart of any such mission. In response, Nanius had said that his men would only be there as reinforcements in case something went wrong, but also took care to remind Jim that he was a guest on Aiur.

Jim reluctantly agreed to bring the extra help along, but now that Asuka had spotted him, he appreciated the backup.

"Nanius!" he called, standing up and moving down the hill to where the innovative executor stood.

"Yes, Jim?" Nanius replied, "What is the status of our heretical harbinger of doom?"

"I'm afraid our cover is blown, boys," he said, "Call the shuttle up and let's get the hell out of here."

Nanius looked past Jim, saying nothing but activating his psi lance. Jim turned to see seven zealots lined up on the rim, all but one mutated by Terrazine. Their armor had even begun to blacken, and their active psi blades were crackling with wildly fluctuating green energy. Each of them were moving from foot to foot, the new mutant energy taking away part of their discipline in the face of new abilities.

Jim was instantly reminded of how dangerous the situation was, and whipped his rifle up in line with the first target he saw. Around him, Nanius' warriors were dropping into fighter's stances, their weapons ready for war. For a moment, no one moved. Then Asuka appeared, decloaking in between the two groups, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Looks like you're a little lost, Jim," she said, smiling without humor, "Be a shame if you went missing. Maybe it'd be better if you just ran along now. Before I do something drastic."

He hadn't spoken with her in six years, and had about a thousand questions to ask. However, judging by her greeting, he was forced to resign himself to the fact that his questions would go perpetually unanswered. So, he decided to focus on the task at hand, and try to glean any practical information possible.

"Why are you working with Rasinar?" he asked, Impaler still aimed solidly at one of the zealots, who stood just as solidly in return.

"Our relationship is mutually beneficial," she said mysteriously, "Speaking of which, it would also be mutually beneficial for you to get out of my business before I have to slice you into neat little uniform cubes. You'd live and my warp blade wouldn't have to overwork itself."

"Nanius? What do you make of all this?" Jim said, not looking back at Nanius even as he addressed him.

"It is my belief that we will come into violent contact with Ms. Soryu's forces eventually no matter what course of action we take," Nanius observed, "But ultimately, I shall leave the decision up to you, my friend."

"Okay," Jim said, and squeezed the trigger.


	72. Chapter 72

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 72: Dragged Down by the Stone**

The C14 Impaler gauss rifle was a fearsome weapon. Firing 8mm, foot-long depleted uranium spikes capable of puncturing two inches of steel plating at a rate of 30 rounds per second out of a five hundred-round box magazine, it was somehow often underestimated by anyone outside the marines who used it.

The zealot Jim had targeted underestimated the rifle.

He would never underestimate it again.

Spikes tore through the zealot's shields, ripped through his darkened armor, shredded his chest and blew out his back in a glowing shower of curiously green blood. He hit the ground on his back, splattering his bodily fluids across the blackened ground around him, his psi blades not even activated. Jim had caught the zealot, and the rest of the Protoss, completely off-guard with the suddenness of his attack, a fact that left him feeling rather proud of himself.

Asuka lunged immediately, powering a full four feet into the air, extending her warp blade for a downward thrust into Jim's visor. Jim saw her movement and started to yank his Impaler around for a shot, realizing even as he moved that it was too late. She had the upper hand, and he was nano seconds away from death.

Nanius forced Jim aside with his elbow, bringing his psi lance up in the process. Jim hit the ground just as the two energy weapons collided with a crack of electricity. Spinning over onto his back, Jim could see the two figures pushing at each other, 5' 5" Asuka from below and three-meter Nanius from above. Sparks flew around the two embattled figures, silhouetting them in a mixture of green and blue flashes.

"Stay the hell out of this, Protoss!" Asuka shouted above the erupting of gunfire and bursting shields around her, "This is between me and him!"

"Wrong, my confused combatant. Jim is my friend, and striking at him is just the same as striking at me," Nanius replied, forcing his blade down on her's as hard as he could muster.

"Damn your stubbornness!" Asuka shouted.

She brought her foot up and slammed it into Nanius' midsection. To Jim's surprise, it actually knocked the towering zealot backward, his feet losing balance for a moment. That moment was all it took for Asuka to attempt another lunge, this time right at Nanius. She barreled down toward him, only to land on a suddenly appearing plasma shield.

Nanius forced her to one side, throwing her lightweight across the ground. Asuka landed on her side, rolled thrice, and swung back up onto her feet, the warp blade up and ready, only to see that Nanius had gotten up as well.

Around them, Terrazine-mutated zealots fought with members of the Yatuj'a Tribe in a violent, bloody skirmish that was quickly covering the plasma-scored ground with luminescent blue and green splashes. However, Jim noticed that there was a significantly greater amount of green blood, meaning that the battle wouldn't last too much longer before Asuka's force was defeated.

That was until he saw the first zealot he'd shot start to stand back up. At first, Jim had thought he was merely making a final movement before death. Then he spied the zealot's chest. Skin had begun to replace the destroyed area, healing it with all the precision of a skilled medic. The mutated zealot found its footing, activated its psi blades, and started to rejoin the fray by jumping at Nick.

Asuka grunted as she swung at Nanius, only to have her thrust blocked again by his legionnaire shield. As she pulled back again, Nanius stabbed at her from behind his shield. Ducking, she narrowly avoided the blue point. Bringing her warp blade up, she scored a hit on his ankle, successfully dropping his full body shields.

Nick whipped around, firing off a full clip from one scythe pistol into the mutated zealot's gut. Stumbling backward, the zealot felt at his gut, but remained alive. His stomach had just started to grow back when Nick put a final slug into his brain, kicking the zealot back onto the ground. Jim noted that it wasn't moving or regenerating the hole in-between its eyes, killed at last.

"You gotta shoot 'em in the head!" Nick shouted, realizing the weakness just as Jim had.

Nanius stabbed downward at Asuka, missing her by a hairsbreadth yet again. She rolled out from under him, flipped up onto her feet and swung against his legionnaire shield, this time with remarkable gusto. The shield flared and collapsed, overloaded by the force of her attack, and Nanius was forced to block her next strike with the side of his psi lance.

Lieutenant Floyd Watson didn't like the current situation. In fact, he didn't like most situations involving Protoss forces in combat, so he most certainly didn't like fighting Protoss forces that could only be killed by head shots. Nevertheless, he was in the thick of the skirmish and if he felt like waking up tomorrow, he would have to put up with the bullshit situation at hand.

He still wasn't quite sure how much force was needed to actually kill a Protoss with a headshot, so he found that he was overcompensating a lot. Half a clip each was probably overkill, but Watson didn't feel like taking chances. With most of their original crew dead, ammo wasn't exactly in short supply for the remainder.

He sprayed an enemy in the face, shredding the target's head into a series of fleshy ribbons mixed with chunks of skull. As that zealot dropped, he turned to shoot another one, just in time to get a sparking green Terrazine blade through the stomach. The mutated zealot lifted him off the ground, using the blade as a holder, and psionically roared in his face.

Watson screamed back, blood frothing from his mouth, and emptied the rest of his rifle's ammo into the zealot's neck. The spikes ripped the zealot's head off its neck in a violent spray of green. Without psionic attachment to its owner, the psi blade shut off. Watson fell to the ground with a resounding thud, writhing in pain right next to the decapitated zealot.

Jim stomped on a wounded zealot's head, caving it in under the weight of his boot. Looking around, he could see that the battle was nearly won, with almost all of the enemy zealots either dead or dying. Standing out in this field of death were Nanius and Asuka, both of whom were still fighting each other in a dance of slashing blades. Grimacing, Jim started off in their direction, reloading as he went.


	73. Chapter 73

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 73: Standoff**

Asuka stepped back from Nanius, watching him closely with her piercing blue eyes. Through years of training and the no doubt helpful skills gleaned from the Khalis Crystal of Knowledge, Asuka had made herself a perfect weapon of war. Proficient in all manners of close-quarters combat, she prided herself on the massive amount of kills she had collected in her twenty-nine years of living.

To date she had killed 168 Protoss zealots in hand-to-hand, all of them with remarkable ease. In Asuka's mind, there was no one equal to her at that range of fighting. Today, however, she had found her match in the powerfully built warrior poet that stood before her.

Nanius was perfectly built, his muscles toned and shaped for combat. He fought like he talked: gracefully and with patience, but with a pinch of bitter shrewdness surfacing in unexpected attack angles originating from carefully shielded depths of his mind. Asuka was convinced that these random blows were a result of being in contact with the Terran mantra of fighting.

She knew this because that was how she fought, and this was also the reason he matched her so perfectly. In truth, she was slightly unnerved by the impenetrable stare Nanius was favoring her with, and wasn't quite positive that she could take him right now. So, she did the only thing she could think of to do at the moment.

"You'd better run, Nanius. You and I both know that Rasinar's tribe its coming this way right now," she said, beginning to circle.

Nanius fell right into the circling, never breaking eye contact with his opponent. "I sense you are shielding your thoughts. Could it be, o Mistress of Shadows, that you are hesitant to prolong this confrontation?"

Asuka scoffed. "That's a laugh. I'm just worried that Rasinar's men might overwhelm you. If you died today, then I wouldn't have an equal to face off with in the future, now would I?"

"Though I still find your words to be false, I must reluctantly agree with elements of your assessment. This conflict must be continued and cannot be done so if my colleagues and I depart now for the vestiges of unrecorded yesteryear," Nanius said, collapsing his psi lance, "I bid you farewell, treacherous leach."

Asuka collapsed her own weapon, intending to walk away, when an Impaler barrel was forced into the base of her skull. "Jim," she said, not needing to turn and look.

"Yeah," the marine replied, "I disagree, Nanius. I say we ace her ass right here, right now."

"Well, you've got me," Asuka said, shrugging in a very over-the-top fashion, "Guess you can go through with it."

"Oh I will. But first, I've got to know something," Jim said.

Asuka detected no love in either his voice or his thoughts, only a seething hatred for what he viewed as the destruction of the woman he had known into the monstrosity that stood before him: a power hungry wretch of a being, existing only to trick, destroy and betray. In all honesty, Asuka couldn't say that he was far off.

Jim continued. "Why'd you save me on Tarsonis?"

"I didn't save you on purpose. I needed what was in Traz's head, nothing more, nothing less. You just happened to be there, and in truth you're probably lucky that I didn't kill you too," she answered.

"Bullshit," Jim spat.

Asuka turned around, squaring up to Jim and looking right into his eyes over the barrel of the weapon now pointed directly at her mouth. "No, Jim, not bullshit. Look, Traz had information built up in his brain that I required. In fact, Gendo had information in his computers that I needed as well. You'll find that a lot of what I do is based around the information that I require, and I don't really like asking for it," she said, "And I always get what I want."

"So what, you just go around ruining people's lives in order to get this information? Do you even know what you're doing to people?" Jim asked.

"Those people's lives are merely accessories, accidental occurrences to be forgotten in the face of what was gleaned," she said, voice a cold sheet of ice.

"Is that what this is all about, Asuka? Power?"

"Of course you idiot!" she snapped, "In this universe, the only constant force is power! Everything else is subjective! The sooner you get that the sooner you'll become someone worthy of remembering."

Jim's scowl deepened. "I see how it is," he said.

"No, Jim. But I sincerely wish you did," Asuka said.

Then she was gone, disappearing in a cloaking field before Jim could cope with her statement enough to fire. Looking around rapidly, Jim tried to spot any trace of her, but to no avail. Asuka Langley Soryu had ghosted, and it was pointless to try and find her. Jim sighed, letting his arms go limp, and looked blankly across the battlefield.

"Perhaps now would be the opportune moment to leave," Nanius suggested, striding up behind Jim, "Rasinar's forces are indeed inbound as we speak."

"Yeah," Jim agreed, snapping back into reality, "Gather for extraction, people!"


	74. Chapter 74

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 74: Creeping Malaise**

Asuka decloaked at the base of the hill, much to the surprise of the Furinax zealots heading up toward the rim. She pushed through them, heading over to where Rasinar was bringing up the rear of the formation.

"What has happened? Have the Akilae attacked?" he asked, worry pervading his tone.

Asuka shook her head. "No, nothing that serious. Just some Terran and Yatuj'a warriors. We scared them off without too much trouble," she replied, "Call off your men. They're long gone."

Rasinar's eyes flared up in anger. "I will direct my forces how I see fit, dark one!" he fumed, "Do not presume to know what is best for them."

"Whatever," Asuka said, stepping past him, "I'll be on the _Manifestation Eternal_. If you need something, come get me."

Moving to the center of the camp, Asuka stepped up into a golden Protoss frigate, her heavy black boots banging on the ramp. Cloak flailing behind her, she entered the ship through an airlock. Immediately, she saw Executor Ranyt. He was standing directly in her path, blue robe wrapped around his body like a shield.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her in for a crushing kiss on the lips. Asuka responded, running the fingers of her right hand up through his cropped black hair, heating the passionate moment to a point that could melt Neo-steel. Not for the first time, Asuka wondered how a man who had been raised by aliens without mouths could be such a fantastic kisser.

Sure, he was the closest thing to an expert on Xel'Naga writing, artifacts and culture that anyone could find, and once he had served his purpose she would probably kill him, but what was the harm in having some fun in the process? She may have become a heartless monster, but even monsters needed some…attention.

Ranyt pulled back, still holding her close to his chest. "I was worried," he admitted.

"That was unwarranted," she said, smirking, "You know I can handle myself."

Ranyt smiled. "Yes, indeed I do," he said.

The way he spoke reminded Asuka of something, and she suddenly wanted to do anything but make love with the tall human in front of her. Pulling out of his grasp, she started off down the corridor to her quarters.

"Is something wrong?" Ranyt asked, following her.

"Nanius," she replied, whirling around.

Ranyt halted mid-step. "What of him?"

"He was up there, Ranyt," she said, "He's working with Jim again, and they don't seem to like us very much."

Ranyt didn't reply, stunned into silence by this new information. Asuka understood. It wasn't everyday that you learned someone you'd thought dead is still alive, and running around trying to kill you to boot. She left him there, standing in the hallway, and headed off to take a shower. If everything went according to plan, then tomorrow would be a big day.

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Two miles away, Jim crouched in a shuttle's troop compartment. Next to him was the bleeding form of Floyd Watson, who's psi blade injury was proving hard to cure in the light of no medic available. It didn't help that he wouldn't stop screaming, though Jim couldn't really blame him. In any event, Jim had removed his gloves and now had both his hands shoved into the hole in Watson's stomach, trying to staunch the blood flow as best he could.

"Ian!" Jim shouted, his hands sliding around in the wet gunk that covered his friend's gut armor, "How far out are we?"

Ian looked at the spoofer box, watching the translations from the Protoss computer system, then turned back to Jim. "Sixteen minutes at full speed!" he shouted, then looked at the box again, "Oh shit. Incoming bogies! Two scouts on our six!"

"Fuck," Jim muttered, then looked around, "Robinson! Get topside and deal with them!"

The UED special forces marine, who had been helping along with Nick in pulling Watson's armor off, fixed Jim with a questioning glance. "What the hell do you mean 'topside'?" she asked.

"I believe he means atop this transport," Nanius interjected, reaching up and undoing an emergency hatch in the ceiling, "This will provide you access."

Robinson muttered something about the situation being insane, picked up her positron cannon and with Nanius' help made it up onto the roof. Nick looked at the empty exit for five seconds after she'd disappeared, and would have longer if Jim hadn't smacked him in the side of the helmet.

"Focus, damnit! Get the rest of this suit off!" the Major shouted, still trying to stop Watson's bleeding.

"I'm gonna die!" Watson screamed, blood gurgling in his throat.

"Shut the fuck up, Floyd!" Jim shouted back, "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

A series of bangs stitched across the shuttle's rear shields, followed by two loud discharges from Robinson's heavy anti-everything gun. An explosion roiled across the craft, and Ian let out a whoop as one scout barreled down into the jungle below, blue flame belching out of its fuselage.

"Why the fuck didn't this wound cauterize!" Jim yelled in frustration, "Nanius! Get over here!"

As the zealot moved to Jim's side, Watson continued his doom-filled rant. "I've been run through with a blade of pure energy! I'm not walking away from this, Jim! Look at this blood! I'm through, man!"

"Sorry, I didn't realize you had a medical degree!" Jim barked as another trio of positron shots echoed from above them, "Nanius, use-"

"I understand the concept," Nanius interrupted, moving his psi blade toward Watson's wounded stomach.

The blue energy heated the bleeding organs, sealing them as it passed and preventing further blood loss. Together, Jim and Nanius rolled Watson over and did the same thing to the exit wound in his back. Propping him up against a bulkhead, Jim looked Watson right in the eye.

"We've done everything we can. Just hold on, alright?" he said.

Watson ran his hand around in the red liquid that covered the golden floor, causing ripples in the pool. His eyes were unfocused, and even Jim could tell that he'd gone over the point of no return.

"Thanks, Jim," he said through the red haze in his vision, "I know you tried. You're a good guy."

Jim set a bloodied hand on Watson's shoulder pad. "You'll be okay," he lied, "Everything's fine. We stopped the bleeding."

Watson grinned. "Doesn't matter now," he said, "See you around."

With that, Watson's heart beat one last time, then retired into stillness. The Dominion lieutenant's head hung forward, blood running down his chin from where he'd been coughing in the last few minutes of his life, but his mouth was holding fast in a content grin, and Jim knew that wherever Floyd Watson had gone, he was happy.


	75. Chapter 75

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 75: Aftershocks**

Katsuragi stood atop the plateau, wind whipping at her opened uniform jacket as she and Jefferies watched the shuttle descend to a gentle stop on the grass. The gleaming door slid aside and Jim walked out alongside Nanius. Between them they carried Watson, parts of his CMC armor still attached to his limp form. Jim's armor was splashed with green, blue and red blood splotches, which had then begun to mix into a muddy pasty colored coating.

"No," she breathed as they drew nearer, "Not Watson."

Jim grimaced as they passed, clearly too busy to talk at the moment. Katsuragi watched him retreat inside the facility, and turned to see the rest of the team unload from the shuttle.

Ian came out, aiding Nick in helping Robinson limp down the ramp. A piece of gold metal was lodged in her leg, identified by Katsuragi as shrapnel, but the girl still kept a grip on the positron cannon she coveted so much. Nick seemed unhurt, though his Reaper suit was just as bloodied as Jim's. Ian was just fine, though he wasn't beaming with the same smart-ass grin he normally wore.

As the day wore on, Katsuragi noticed that Ian wasn't the only one who'd been sobered by Watson's death. Everyone seemed to lose a little something at the departure of the charismatic Dominion lieutenant, if only in the form of one less face around the mess hall. Even the cold, detached and cynical Jefferies seemed disheartened, choosing to hermit in his room with Jenkins as company.

The Xel'Naga facility was quite expansive and harbored many rooms, all of which Nanius had kindly given out to his Terran visitors. With some bedding taken from the _Shogoki_ and a little bit of ingenuity, the little rooms had become quite passable quarters. Katsuragi walked into Jim's without knocking.

The way she figured, having sex with someone gave you permission to invade their privacy every now and then.

"Hey," she greeted.

Jim turned from where he was digging through his footlocker for a shovel. "Yeah?"

"You alright?" she asked, stepping over to him.

"No," he replied bluntly, "I'm pretty fucking far from alright."

Katsuragi hugged him, and Jim didn't resist it. He smelled like a mix between blood and sweat, a typical scent for any good Terran marine. His muscles were tensed and refused to relax even when she touched him, proving that he was indeed very far from the classification 'alright'. Finally, she gave up trying to comfort him and backed off.

"I'll talk to you later," he said, heading out the door with his entrenching tool, "Right now, I've got to go bury my friend."

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Jefferies lay back on his bunk, massaging the patch over his eye. Every now and then, the pulped remains in his socket would throb in a way that could only and oddly be likened to a toothache. He was also very susceptible to migraines, which didn't do anything to help the matter. Sighing, Jefferies reminded himself for the thousandth time that it was hell getting old.

Something thudded into his chest, and Jefferies looked down to see Jenkins perched on his hazardous environment suit. The larva's eyes bugged at him, large and black, and Jefferies couldn't help patting it on the head. The little Zerg's head was hard, reinforced brown carapace that enabled it to survive most blunt force trauma without problem. In Jenkins' case, that mainly meant breaking into air vents.

Jefferies looked at Jenkins large, reflective eyes, catching just in time an image of the warp scythe behind him. Ducking down and to the left, Jefferies evaded the whooshing blade. The green energy sliced into the wall at his left, spraying molten steel across the room. The other end of the blade followed, lashing out at his midsection as he stood up.

Jefferies leapt backward, missing the crackling blade by a mere centimeter. His back hit the wall just as he brought his slugthrower up into line with his attacker's chest.

Then he saw who it was, and his trigger finger refused to respond to his squeezing command.

"Kind of a bad way to say hi to your former teacher, don't you think?" he asked, jerking his head toward the steaming gash in the wall.

Asuka grinned. "You always were funny, sir," she said, her warp scythe pulsating, ready to strike in a heartbeat, "I take it you're on to me."

"Whatever do you mean?" Jefferies said, making a purposefully lame attempt at innocence.

The scythe came down, and Jefferies dogged out of the way. Using his boot, he pinned the weapon to the wall, preventing her from cutting around toward his new location. Asuka looked up just in time to see the barrel of Jefferies' slugthrower come in line with her forehead.

"Watch it," he warned.

Suddenly, the slugthrower crumpled in his grasp, bent out of shape by Asuka's mind. She pushed him back with a full shoulder of force and pinned him up in a corner, bracing him back with one curved, green blade.

"You're a good man, Jefferies, one of the few left in this sector. You did a lot for me and I thank you for that," she said, "However, if you ever get in my way, I'll forget you were so nice to me all those years ago. We clear?"

"Yeah," Jefferies said, his voice even despite glowing death being only an inch away from his throat.

And then she was gone, disappearing right before his eyes. He slumped back onto his bed, and Jenkins jumped back down out of his preferred air vent, everything reverting back to normal.


	76. Chapter 76

**Author's Note: I've been writing so much over this spring break that I totally forgot to update. Sorry about that, but on the bright side we are getting very close to the climactic chapter 100. So, here's another batch of chapters. Remember: reviewers get cookies.**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 76: Gone With the Wind**

Jim fell back onto his rear, reclining in the damp Aiur grass. The dirt mound next to him was complete, doing its job to cover the body of Lieutenant Floyd Watson as best it could. Jim had dug a regulation grave in the best place he could find on the small island and as he looked out across the sparkling ocean view, he had to compliment himself on his choice of location.

Sparkling waters, amazing celestial spectacles at the beginning and end of every day and a consistent weather pattern, making it one hell of a gravesite. Watson's Impaler was jammed barrel-first into the dirt and his helmet was mounted on its butt, a traditional field grave marker passed down since the first days of mechanized warfare on Earth.

Jim looked over at the grave. "Who'd have ever thought I'd be burying a Dominion officer in respect," he muttered, standing up and turning back to the complex's entrance, "Good knowing you, Watson. See you around."

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"Executor, we need to talk," Asuka stated upon entering Rasinar's inner sanctum, located at the heart of his Terrazine Lake nexus.

The towering High Templar turned to look at her, his fiery green eyes boring into Asuka's own blue orbs. "Indeed we do, Mistress," he rumbled, his tone indicating irritation.

"Oh?" Asuka said. She wasn't really surprised at his feelings. After all, that was one of the main effects of the Terrazine would inevitably have on his organic makeup. However, he seemed extra pissed, and she was curious as to why.

"You've been getting quite free with your usage of my tribal brothers. I appreciate your help, but it would be nice for you to ask before requisitioning a whole contingent of zealots for a scouting mission," Rasinar said.

Asuka arched her eyebrows. "Really? That would be nice, huh?" she started, "You know what else was nice, Rasinar? Me pulling your ass out of that Terrazine before you became a _total _drowned rat. I'm helping your entire tribe through this change _and_ helping you set up an empire for you to rule. So if I take a few of your men out for a little stroll through the woods without asking, don't try and issue a reprimand."

Rasinar glowered at her for a good long moment. "Very well," he said at last, "What is your purpose for this visit?"

Asuka smiled in a way that would have disarmed most Terran men instantly, giving her the perfect opportunity to slip a blade in between their ribs. "I'll show you. And trust me, you're going to love this," she said, "Ranyt, bring in the board."

The door slipped into the floor and Ranyt stepped in, his high-tech golden armor sharply contrasting the archaic piece of equipment he towed in alongside him.

"What _is_ that?" Rasinar asked.

"Chalkboard," Asuka answered simply, producing a white stick from beneath her cloak, "I prefer it to any kind of fancy hologram."

"Very well," Rasinar said.

Ranyt chuckled and leaned up against one wall, his armor making no sound as it touched the smooth golden arch. Asuka grinned as she turned to the chalkboard. She quickly drew out one large circle, soon followed by a few sweeping scribbles within it, forming what looked like landmasses separated by oceans.

"Aiur," she explained.

"A passable representation," Rasinar relented, folding his muscled arms across his broad chest, scrutinizing her drawing closely.

"Thanks," she replied dryly.

She drew a thick dot on one continent and labeled it 'us'. Then, she drew another dot labeled 'them'.

"Please extrapolate on who 'them' is," Rasinar said, "I find it hard to understand our enemy when defined in such vague terms."

"The Akilae Tribe. Or more specifically, their main base," Asuka explained, "And these are all the other tribal headquarters."

For the next thirty seconds, she drew and labeled the remaining five tribes' positions while Rasinar watched, perplexed. What was her point? He knew the tribes positions. He'd been fighting here for four years, long enough to learn any map inside and out.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Executor, but our forces don't even come close to matching those of the Akilae," Asuka said.

"You are right," Rasinar said, "And I dare say that not many other Executors feel any warmth toward what I stand for."

"The Terrazine infection doesn't help either," Ranyt muttered.

Rasinar wheeled on the Terran bastard, intent upon giving him a good throttling when Asuka interrupted him.

"Well, I think we might have a way to swing the manpower in our favor," she said, "But first, the Ara need to be removed."

"Why the Ara?" Rasinar asked, tearing his eyes back to the redhead.

The answer came from Ranyt. "Because they have the beacon."


	77. Chapter 77

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 77: Sweet Smell of a Great Sorrow**

The shuttles came in low, just skirting the ocean, kicking up a spraying mist of saltwater in their wake. Nanius watched their approach; his blue Bengalaas robe drooped about his body, with disinterest. Too many things were on his mind for him to simply enjoy the spectacular landing, though he had to admit it was impressive.

In a movement like that of a seasoned dancer's curtsey, the five golden crafts were down, resting on the sand like a group of beached crabs. Their doors opened upwards and ramps extended, allowing for a full company of Yatuj'a warriors to pile out. Though almost entirely made up of zealots, Nanius' tribe wasn't without the stronger elements of a well-rounded Protoss army.

Each frontline zealot adopted the same shield-and-lance doctrine that their leader swore by, and the ones that didn't were specialized, dealing in extra equipment. Several 'super zealots' were among the ranks; their forearms bulging with miniaturized scarab launchers as well as two psi blades per arm. As each of the soldiers passed Nanius on their way inside the complex to his rear, they favored him with quick but respectful 'En Taro Adun' salutes.

Nanius nodded to each in turn, waiting for the last member to emerge from within the parked shuttles. Finally, Verbatix emerged, the ground shaking as he ambled down the ramp on his four mechanical legs. The massive Immortal was Nanius' second in command and also one of his closest friends.

"En Taro Adun, Nanius!" Verbatix greeted, his twin phase disrupters glowing, "You wear our colors well!"

Nanius glanced at his robe, its yellow fringe offsetting the blue in the customary scheme of the Yatuj'a Tribe. He then looked at Verbatix, whose metal shell was fully blue with only bits of gold shining through, giving off the same feel.

"And you as well, good friend," Nanius replied, "Come inside. We have much to discuss."

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A zealot bumped into Ian, throwing him off balance. The Protoss warrior continued down the corridor further inside the complex without pause for apology.

"Yeah, love you too asshole," the tech spat.

Jim set an armored hand on Ian's shoulder, calming the younger man. "Let it be," he said, his voice even.

"Why the fuck are you jacked up?" Ian asked; nodding at the combat armor Jim wore.

"Well, with all the extra forces showing up, Nanius must be getting ready for something," the Major replied, slipping a cigarette out of its pack, a feat notoriously difficult to perform in the armored gloves.

"Indeed I am in a preparatory stage, Jim," Nanius said as he strolled over to them, his gait fluid as ever, "A council of war is about to be held in the commons area. Care to join in?"

"Hell yeah," Jim replied, adjusting his Impaler into a two-handed position across his chest, "Lead the way."

Jim followed Nanius down multiple lookalike passageways before finally finding himself in the large open commons area. In the past few days, Jim and his companions had used the room's circular holographic display table as a makeshift dining area, feasting on local fruit they had picked from across the island.

Now, however, the table was lit up like a Christmas tree, with no fruit bowels in sight. Nick, Robinson and Katsuragi stood off to one side, looking warily at the hulking Immortal standing next to the table. They didn't look too happy to be in the same room as the metallic blue walker, and Jim didn't blame them. After all, the steel 'head' that was crafted onto each Immortal didn't wear the warmest of expressions.

"Jim, I present to you my second in command: Steward Verbatix," Nanius said, "Verbatix, this is Major Jim Goss of the United Korpulu Republic."

"It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance, Jim Goss," sent a deep rumbling from within the steel contraption.

"Hey," Jim replied, "Nice meeting you, too. What're we supposed to be talking about, Nanius?"

Nanius moved to the table and started pulling up various images. At this point, the three loiterers made their way into the center of the room, taking up position around the table just as Jim and the two Protoss had. Nick looked over at Jim, holding his hand open. Without looking away from the glowing table, Jim tossed him the cigarette pack he was carrying.

"Though we lost many honorable comrades in our recent exploratory expedition into Furinax territory, the experience was not a total loss," Nanius said, pulling up an overview of the Terrazine Lake base, "The data we acquired was enough information to construct this rendering, as well as obtain a sound estimate of their overall strength."

"Where do they stand?" Jim asked, talking around his cigarette.

"When compared to other tribes of their league, such as the Akilae and the Shelak, they do not stand well," Nanius answered, "Our destruction of their flagship severely damaged their militaristic might."

"Good," Nick put in; "We hurt them."

"Your observation is only partially correct, Lieutenant McCabe," Nanius said.

"Puts them off the radar," Jim muttered, "They aren't big enough to hurt anyone, but by the same token they're too small to bother with."

"Exactly. And while their Terrazine enhancements help, they are not yet to a point where they are confident to test their efficiency in large-scale combat," Nanius said.

Verbatix cut in. "Though when they do, we can be sure that they will try and recruit more followers into their 'new genesis'."

"Okay," Katsuragi said, rubbing her hands together, "Now you're speaking my language."

"Huh?" Jim asked, perplexed as ever at the UED captain's comment.

She glared at him. "Look, I grew up under a fascist government. Recruiting people into corrupt ideologies is my bread and butter," she explained, "The first thing Rasinar is going to do is go to the biggest influential media source. For Terrans it's typically a news program of some sort. Nanius, what do the Protoss have in that department?"

"I am sad to say that Aiur lacks a global information distribution system at the present. No viable options for what you say exist, well, besides the Beacon," Nanius said.

At that, Verbatix telepathically laughed. "That's absurd, Nanius. The Beacon doesn't work!"

"What's the Beacon?" Jim asked.

"A psionic amplifier, built by the Xel'Naga aeons before recorded history," Nanius answered, "Scholars have researched its purpose for centuries. Most believe that it could be used to meld the Protoss conscious into a true hive mind, abolishing all individuality. It is a truly frightening possibility, but as of yet no Protoss has managed to activate it."

The holographic table brightened in several places, blinking red in alert signals. Nanius snapped into action, scanning through multiple screens before coming up on a topographical view showing red and white dots.

"Speak of irony," Verbatix said.

"What?" Jim asked, leaning in to look.

"The Shelak are engaging the Ara at the Beacon's location," Nanius explained, then the warmth resonating in his thoughts vanished, "I swear the Gods hate me."

On the screen, several violet dots were moving into the fray.

"Tell me those don't represent Furinax forces," Jim sighed.

Nanius' shoulders slumped. "I would, but then I would be lying," he said, weariness emanating from his body, "They are making a move for the Beacon, and with the Ara and Shelak weakened from the battle, a small strike force will be able to capture it."

"Know what the best contraceptive for a small strike force is?" Jim asked, hefting his Impaler.

Nanius nodded. "Unfortunately, I do," he said, "Verbatix, prepare two shuttles."


	78. Chapter 78

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 78: Curdled With Fright**

Jim stood off to one side in the shuttle's main troop compartment, watching as the zealots around him prepared for combat. It was an intensely boring sight, as they simply stood very still and closed their eyes, drawing energy from the Kahla to increase their efficiency in the coming battle. Jim was sure that to a Protoss, the ordeal was totally wicked, but to a Terran it was decidedly less than so.

"How far out are we, Ian?" Jim asked, calling forward to where the tech was watching the readouts.

"ETA is ten minutes, Major!" Ian replied.

"You catch all that, Nick?" Jim asked over his radio.

"Yeah, I caught it," the Reaper replied from the shuttle to their right, "How's the scenery on your end?"

"Mind numbing," Jim answered, looking at the zealot in front of him, "I've seen bird shit with more character."

"Trust me, they don't get any better when they're in exosuits," Nick said, referring to Verbatix, who was in the other shuttle as well.

Jim wasn't sure what to make of the Immortal. Aside from Nanius, he still had yet to meet a Protoss that he could talk to without feeling paranoid. Though Verbatix definitely had honor, as he was a friend to the stalwart Nanius, Jim was still unconvinced of the warrior's combat skills. Jim didn't want to have such a jaded view, but if the guy had died once already…

"Here we go!" Ian shouted, turning away from the holographic display with his UED laser rifle in hand, "LZ is below us!"

The shuttle slowed to a hover and a portal in the floor opened up, creating a crackling gravity lift to the ground twenty feet below. Nanius let out a battle cry and jumped out first, his psi shield and lance both active before he even touched down. Jim was the second out, barreling downward with the gracefulness of a brick.

When he hit the ground, his leg servos had to work overtime to keep him from tipping over like the ungainly beast he was in power armor. Standing up and moving out from under the lift, he was able to safely observe Ian's crash landing. Having significantly less experience in armor than Jim and hardly even the same amount of luck, Ian's legs buckled beneath him and he face planted into the grass.

"See any hostiles down there?" Jim asked.

"Fuck you," the tech shouted, his voice muffled by the vegetation in his mouth.

Jim chuckled and walked away, joining Nanius at the nearby cliff edge. "What's our goal here, buddy?" he asked.

Below them, the Ara and Shelak tribes were having one of the most epic fights Jim had ever seen. Zealots collided with each other, spilling gallons of blue blood on the grassy valley floor in long sprays while scouts engaged each other in what was quickly becoming a very deadly piece of airspace. Colossi moved about on their four legs, burning long swaths of death through enemy forces with their thermal lances. Jim wouldn't be surprised if carriers were called into play before long.

At the center of the embattled valley was a towering stone pyramid, its beautifully crafted sides vaulting up into the sky in intricate swoops that were beyond any species capabilities of architectural design. It radiated beauty, and without being told Jim could tell it was the Beacon.

Nevertheless, Nanius pointed it out to him. "There is our goal, Major. However, moving in with shuttles is out of the question. We would be targeted and destroyed immediately."

"What're our ground options?" Jim asked.

"Sparse and risky," Nanius answered without pause, "We can either drive straight up the middle, fighting our way through the middle of the crowd. Losses would be severe, but with enough determination we could force our way through quickly enough to cut off Rasinar's strike force before they can get the Beacon operational."

"Any other options?"

"One: we go around the long way and use a pass below the southern falls to work our way up behind the Beacon and infiltrate it from the rear," Nanius said, "However, that would take up considerably more time than the first option."

"Where's Rasinar's strike force at?" Jim asked Ian, who had just managed to get the mud out of his mouth.

Ian checked his visor layout, which was meant to interface with the Yatuj'a Tribe's extensive surveillance network. "Uh, they just touched down on the Beacon's top," the tech responded, "With half a wing of Phoenixes flying escort, they were able to punch through the surrounding air battle pretty easily."

"That kind of eliminates option number two," Jim muttered, "This is gonna be a bitch and a half."

"Indeed," Nanius agreed, turning to the assembled Protoss warriors, "To the Beacon!"

The zealots roared back, hefting their weapons into the air in a hissing cackle of sparking energy. Then, as one, the joint Terran/Protoss strike force crested the lip and ran down into the fray.


	79. Chapter 79

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 79: Terror Immortal**

Jim squeezed the trigger. His Impaler bucked, throwing out a full one hundred spikes in record time. The fusillade slammed into an Ara zealot, tossing the warrior backward onto the ground where a Shelak Dragoon immediately trampled him. The Dragoon's underside mounted phase disrupter swung around in line with Jim, preparing to fire.

Antimatter bolts hammered the Dragoon, melting its armor and blowing it apart in a burst of blue heat. Spinning around, Jim saw Verbatix standing above him, his twin cannons smoking in the aftermath of their recent discharge.

"Move, Terran! There is much to be done!" the Immortal said, turning and firing at a clustering of zealots.

"Thanks!" Jim shouted.

He turned back around in the direction of the Beacon and started running. His boots dug into the ground, turned to a bluish mud from the bloodshed that had been raging for the past hour. As he sprayed the combatants around him, strafing really, as he ran, Jim was reminded of just how vicious Protoss combat was.

Six Shelak zealots jumped one Ara Immortal, clinging on for dear life as they stabbed into its metal frame. The Immortal shook one of them off and stepped on it, caving in its chest cavity, before another zealot stabbed into its core and struck the rejuvenated warrior within. The remaining Shelak started to dismount the immobilized mech when the presumably dead pilot detonated the Immortal's reactor, killing the entire group in one blinding flash.

Jim kept running, dashing beneath a Colossus as it strode across the battlefield. The massive walker's twin thermal lances lashed out, sizzling right through two Reavers and fifteen zealots in the blink of an eye. The terrifying behemoth moved its weapons side-to-side, burning enemies into memory with the precision of a surgeon.

That was until seven scouts unloaded their full compliments of antimatter rockets into the bulbous command center perched atop the Colossus, shattering the mainframe computer that controlled the beast. Without a brain to supervise its balance, the Colossus leaned to one side, its metal joints groaning from the strain, and pitched over into the warring crowd.

Jim took a quick look over his shoulder to see if the rest of the team was behind him. In that split second where he took his eyes off the fight around him, an Ara zealot jumped him. The two flew to the ground; the zealot making unsuccessful stab attempts at Jim's visor while the marine landed a right hook to the Protoss' jaw.

Bones broke and the zealot recoiled in shock from the Terran's powerful hit, giving Jim just enough time to jam his psi bayonet into its brain via a crude entry just below the chin. Bracing his boot against the zealot's decorative chest plate, Jim pushed off the dead weight. He stood up just in time to see Nanius land next to him, blocking another zealot's charge with his psi lance.

Nanius rammed the long blue blade through the enemy's gut, but the zealot's momentum carried him through right up to Nanius' chest. When their faces were inches apart, Nanius delivered a thrashing head butt to his opponent's forehead. The zealot's brain jarred in his head, giving him an instant concussion.

Nanius turned to Jim, in the process ripping his psi lance brutally out of the zealot he had killed with a bone crunching cracking noise. "Jim, follow me!" he shouted.

At this point, Jim had no qualms about following the no doubt superior fighter through the crowd. Falling in behind Nanius for the rest of the run, Jim soon began to wish that his suit had an automatic wiper for his visor. Nanius' fighting style usually ended very violent deaths for his enemies and a lot of blood as consequence.

The warrior poet smashed one opponent in the face with his shield, stabbed a second through the heart, then turned back to the first and slashed him in half at the waist. A third jumped at him from the front and was quickly disemboweled with a nearly invisible flick of the wrist, spilling steaming innards over the ground.

As they neared the Beacon's pyramidal base, Jim was quickly running out of ammunition, leaving him to rely more and more on his psi bayonet. He ducked into cover behind the remains of a downed scout. Looking over, Jim could see that they were next to a staircase built into the side of the Beacon building. They seemingly ran all the way to the top, which was exactly where he needed to be.

Great, now all they needed was the rest of the team.

Nick emerged from the battling horde, quickly followed by Robinson, Verbatix and Ian as well as a half-dozen remaining zealots. Jim stood up and fired his Impaler around them, blowing two enemy zealots off their feet before they could get near his friends.

Nick dove to the ground next to Jim, narrowly avoiding a plasma burst to the head. Looking up at Jim, his expression was unreadable behind the Reaper mask. However, as he spoke, Jim could visualize the bored look on his friend's face.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked.

"Nanius and I are heading up the pyramid," Jim said, "I want you to hold here with Robinson and Ian. Make sure nothing comes up after us."

"You got it," Nick replied, dropping the clips from his Scythe pistols.

"Verbatix, hold here with our brethren and secure the rear," Nanius said, "Without you, we will be enveloped and destroyed."

"I will not fail, Executor!" the Immortal replied, his thoughts booming louder than the combat around them, "En Taro Adun!"

Nanius nodded and looked to Jim. "Ready, my friend?"

Jim slapped a fresh clip into his rifle, noting that it was his last. "Let's do this."


	80. Chapter 80

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 80: Beam of Light**

Asuka stepped out from around the pillar, her cloak flailing behind her. The ground level entrance to the Beacon was one hundred yards away in front of her, down a long narrow corridor. In front of that was a force of Ara soldiers, eight zealots and one High Templar, who were attempting to reach the elevator at the rear.

That elevator ran straight to the top of the structure where Rasinar, Ranyt and a group of troops were busy getting the Beacon online. These intruders intended to foil their plans, and that just would not do.

Asuka activated her warp blade, casting a green hue across the rock walls around her. The Ara saw her instantly, their psi blades popping on just as quickly as their recognition dawned. The High Templar pointed at her and a bright flash of cascading lightning erupted from his fingertips. The energy barreled down the corridor, straight for Asuka.

She lifted her warp blade up and the psionic lightning smashed into it. The warp blade acted as a conduit for her body, allowing her to suck up the energy like an organic sponge. Asuka sighed with the pleasure of the new power, before lifting her own finger and returning it to the sender, twice as hard and glowing with a new blood red sheen.

The energy tore through the High Templar, burning his robes black where it touched and searing his flesh into charcoal-colored rough paper. He flew backward, howling, broke through a pillar and slid to a stop just feet from the entryway he had so bravely stormed. The remaining zealots looked from their dead leader to Asuka, respect and hatred in their eyes, but with an underlying feeling of fear in their thoughts.

"Well," she said, lowering the blazing warp blade to her side, "Are you gonna come on or aren't you?"

"Kill the Dark One!" a zealot boomed, lifting a fist into the air.

His comrades agreed, and all eight of them came charging down the passage straight for Asuka. The warp blade came up, and Asuka lunged at the first one, meeting him halfway in his charge. She avoided his first thrust in midair, sliding past him while slashing down. His right forearm fell away, blood gushing from the stumped remains of his elbow.

She landed and made a higher lateral swipe, cleaving the zealot's head off. As his body fell, two of his teammates attacked her, charging from opposite sides. Asuka blinked out of existence, popping back in five feet to the right just in time to see the two zealots run into each other, their psi blades each entering the other's stomach.

She blocked the fourth zealot's attack twice, reversed a parry and stabbed him in the neck. Pulling her blade from his bleeding throat, she turned on the fifth target, who used a pillar as a springboard to launch himself at her. She slid under him, coming up at his rear. With a flick of her weapon, she opened up his spinal column in a spray of blue that washed across her pretty features.

The last three zealots were past her, running for the elevator. They reached it and punched the controls, starting upward on the fast moving platform. It wasn't until they were halfway up the track that Asuka blinked into existence directly in the middle of their three-man formation.

She reached out, hacking the first one's head off before he could react to her sudden presence. The second had his shit together, and even managed a stab at her stomach before she ran him through. The final zealot stood unbelievably still as his friend hit the ground, twitching like a squished bug.

"The Kahla awaits my soul!" he blurted in the face of imminent death. His fear, though well masked, was easily readable to Asuka.

She savored it right until his eyes faded and she yanked the blade out of his stomach.

His body hit the floor just as the elevator reached the top of its track. Looking around, Asuka saw both Ranyt and Rasinar were staring at her bloodied robe.

"Intruders eliminated," she reported, "How are we with the Beacon?"

"Ready to begin," Ranyt said, setting the last of six alignment crystals in place around the circular depression in the top of the pyramid.

Each of the gems lit up, glowing with untold energies from deep within their mineral makeup. Ranyt grinned, unbelievably happy that the ancient Xel'Naga artifacts were doing their jobs. Asuka smiled just as broadly, but for a totally different reason. They had been a bitch to find, and if they hadn't worked she would have been pissed.

"Rasinar?" she said, "Its time."

The big Protoss Templar nodded and walked toward the center of the circle. He walked up onto a raised circular platform above the elevator, spread his arms wide, and closed his eyes. The crystals, though Asuka hadn't thought it possible, grew even brighter and beams lashed out of them, touching Rasinar to the very core of his soul. His body pulsed with energy, growing so intensely white hot that Asuka had to shield her eyes.

Then, using his body as a way of channeling its pent up psionic power, the Beacon flashed once, twice, and hurtled a beam of light skyward out of Rasinar's body.

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Jim stopped halfway up the stairs dead in his tracks as the beam of light lashed up into the clear blue sky. "What the hell is that?" Jim asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.

"They have activated it," Nanius said, "May Khas save us."

A high pitched whine assailed Jim's ears, rattling his brain inside his skull, and the beam of light fluctuated, rippled and exploded, blasting Jim through the air on a titanic shock wave.


	81. Chapter 81

**Author's Note: *sheepishly enters room* um...hi guys. Sorry about the long, scratch that, REALLY long time since the last update. *winces* What, no bricks to throw? So we're cool? Sweet. Anyway, here you go. Sorry once again, and remember to review! We're getting down to the wire, so input is vital!**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 81: Aftermath**

Jim came around with a pounding headache and blood in his mouth. His visor was still down, but it was cracked beyond repair, allowing rays of sickly green light to filter in and play across his face. Flicking the ruined visor up and out of his way, Jim looked up at the sky. Bits of metal, dirt and garbage were floating around in the air, and high above him he could see the Beacon's effect.

What had before been a brilliant, straight beam of light was now a twisted, curving band of green energy, weaving its way up into a blackened cloud bank that crackled with lightning. Everything around him was covered in a green tint, and as he examined the sky more closely, Jim could see that the shitty cloud layer stretched from horizon to horizon, blanketing the planet in a dark envelope.

Around him lay Protoss. Not just the dead ones, but live ones as well. Jim stumbled to his feet, quickly finding that his left leg was broken from the pain that shot up into his body. Limping, he made his way over to the first non-injured zealot he could find. Jim wasn't a medic by any means, but it looked to him that the alien was in a coma of some sort.

He looked over at the Beacon, making a best guess that he had been thrown a hundred or so yards from it. At that range, he knew to thank God the worst he had gotten was a broken leg and a minor concussion. Switching on his radio, he issued out a call.

"Major Goss to any Dogs of War or Yatuj'a soldiers still operating. Are any of you out there, over?"

Just then, a black shuttle took off from the top of the beacon, hovering out above the field in the direction of the main Furinax base. Jim briefly thought about drawing his sidearm and shooting at it, but realized the futility and checked the motion. Besides, he was just too damn tired.

"Jim? Ian here," the tech made a gagging coughing noise, then continued, "What's up?"

"Where are you?" Jim demanded. He was reasonably sure his leg was leaking blood somehow, and he wanted to figure everything out before he too joined the ranks of comatose beings around him.

"Look for my flare. We're all over here," Ian said.

Jim saw a rocket launcher-fired red flare arc up into the sky sixty yards to the east. "I see your signal, Ian. I'm on my way," he said.

After a number of minutes spent picking his way through the remains of destroyed Protoss war machines and bloodied ground, Jim finally reached his companions. Nick was laying on the ground looking up at the sky. He had his helmet off and was running an armored hand through his hair, moaning in pain.

"What's wrong?" Jim asked.

"My head feels like a siege tank ran it over," the Reaper mumbled, "What the fuck happened?"

"Rasinar activated the Beacon," Jim answered, "Whether it worked or not is yet to be determined."

Robinson looked up from where she was watching over Nanius' prone form. "Well, it sure did a good job of knocking the Protoss out," she said, adjusting her Positron rifle's barrel so that it pointed away from the comatose warrior, "I've tried everything and he just won't wake up."

Jim nodded, then looked to Ian. The tech was standing next to the toppled body of Verbatix, running a scanner across the cybernetic soldier's metal frame. A series of beeps were being emitted from the scanner, and Ian's expression was decidedly less than satisfactory.

"What's with him?" Jim asked.

"He seems to be comatose as well, though its kind of hard to tell through all the armor and circuitry," Ian responded, packing the scanner away.

Jim walked over to Nanius, cringing from the pain shooting up his broken leg, and knelt beside his friend. The brave Protoss's dark blue eyelids were closed and his body was absolutely still. If it weren't for the faint telepathic emanation radiating from Nanius' mind, Jim would have thought him dead. In that same emanation, Jim could feel a slight undertone of fright, a fact that disturbed him.

If Nanius, from within a coma, was frightened, then something was up.

"Time to leave," Jim said, standing abruptly, "Our allies are unconscious, most of us are wounded and no one quite feels up to charging the strange glowing artifact. Any objections to getting the hell out of here before the Furinax come back to secure the site?"

No one had any.

"Good. Ian? Can we call the shuttles in here?"

The tech shook his head. "No way. The Beacon knocked out all higher level electronics with an EMP. We're lucky our damn suits are receiving commands properly."

"That kind of narrows our options then, doesn't it?" Jim said, slinging his Impaler, "Everyone up, its hiking time."


	82. Chapter 82

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 82: Greymarch**

Lightning crackled across the cloud layer, soon followed by the sonic roaring of clashing thunder. The air popped with fried ozone, but Jim's band of survivors trudged on beneath the bleak sky. Jim and Nick held Nanius between them, carrying the comatose warrior across the darkened plains of Aiur. Behind them, Ian and Robinson pulled Verbatix along on two high-tension cables, their armor giving them the power and stamina necessary for such an ordeal.

They had been walking for at least seven hours, their path taking them far away from the Beacon and out from beneath its eerie glow. However, the dark clouds still had an effect on the scenery. The normally lush green grass was gray colored, a result of no sunlight punching through the oppressive weather.

In fact, everything from the trees, boulders, shrubs, grass and even the small piles of stone structures that they passed was gray tinted. Jim kept his eyes ahead, careful not to step wrong and break his leg even further. Eventually, he let his mind become blank, singularly focused on putting one foot in front of the other, afraid that if he let it wander, the scenery would make him too depressed to function.

Another lightning bolt touched down toward the east, lighting a jungle canopy on fire. The flames flickered skyward like a spirit reaching for the heavens. Smoke curled up into the leaden clouds, making what looked like a tether of darkness from the depressing blanket down to the ground, slowly allowing the infectious storm to spread along the earth.

The group pressed on, oblivious to the blaze.

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Asuka and Ranyt helped Rasinar down off the shuttle. He was in and out of lucidity and wasn't yet capable of using all of his own motor functions again. Once they were safely on the ground, Asuka turned him over fully to Ranyt.

"Don't let him move on his own until he's obtained complete control," she said, then turned and hopped back on the blackened shuttle.

"Where are you going?" Ranyt called out.

She stopped halfway up the ramp and looked back at him. "The Akilae base. After all, we came to get that artifact."

"Well, yes, but did you not tell Rasinar here that we would only do that upon helping him destroy the Akilae?" Ranyt asked.

Asuka smirked. "You're too damn naïve, lover," she said, stepping up into the waiting shuttle. She hit the controls and the ramp started to close up. "Remember: nice guys finish last!"

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Jim and Nick both stopped at the same time, finding themselves on a precipice. The ground abruptly ended, giving way to a twenty-story plummet to the ocean below. Looking out across the white-tipped waves of the raging sea, Jim could see the horizon vanishing into infinity, but there was no land visible.

"Shit," Nick muttered, dropping Nanius' legs into the grass.

Jim let go of the zealot's arms and let him flop unceremoniously to the ground. Great, now they had nowhere to go. On the bright side, they were so far away from the Beacon that no Furinax would even bother searching for them. That said, they were also completely out of the search radius of any rescue operation that Katsuragi, Hyuga and Jefferies might try to mount from back at the base.

Much too exhausted to continue thinking about their strategic position, Jim fell into the tall, soft grass, his armor putting a dent in the soil. As he lay there, his eyes closed with blades of grass tentatively reaching through his visor to caress his cheeks, he heard Ian talking.

"Hey, we're out from under the EMP shroud," he said, his voice tired but still happy.

Jim adjusted his face to speak out of the vegetation. "Ian? Does that mean our long range radios work?"

"I would assume so, yes," Ian replied.

"Sweet," Jim mumbled, turning on his COM system, "Advance team to Yatuj'a base, come back Yatuj'a base."

Immediately, Katsuragi's voice burst through on the other end. "Yatuj'a base here. Jim is that you? We're reading huge atmospheric disturbances originating from near your position. Is everything alright?"

"Tell you what. Get over here and pick us up and I'll tell you all about it," Jim said, rolling his head back to one side, "Did the Protoss with you guys go out cold?"

"Yeah, they did," Katsuragi answered, "Why? Does the Beacon have something to do with it?"

Jim glanced over at the comatose warrior poet lying next to him. "Yeah, I think so. Just send that shuttle, okay?"


	83. Chapter 83

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 83: Seeming Betrayal**

"Here it comes!" Ian shouted from his perch atop a boulder the size of a siege tank.

Nick sat up and followed the tech's pointing finger over to the quickly growing golden speck on the horizon. As the speck began to take on the shape of a Protoss shuttle, he rolled over and punched Jim on the shoulder pad.

"What?" the Major groaned.

"Ride's here," Nick replied, standing up out of the grass.

He grabbed Jim's outstretched hand and hauled the injured marine to his feet just as the shuttle came around for a landing. The golden craft's thrusters rippled the grass beneath it as it touched down. Night was coming, and the shred of sunlight that was able to penetrate the telekinetic storm raging above them had all but disappeared, plunging the area into a kind of twilight.

As the shuttle's forward ramp lowered, the internal running lights spilled out onto the plain, silhouetting the form of Captain Misato Katsuragi where she stood in the opening. No sooner had the ramp touched ground then she was running out onto the ground, jumping on Jim before he could object to it. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her lower back, enveloping her smaller body in a neo-steel caress.

It made her seem pitifully insignificant, but she was anything but to the marine that held her. She reached up into his helmet and kissed him on the lips, a favor that Jim was only happy to return. They stayed like that for a moment before breaking apart. Jim looked into her eyes and ran an armored hand through her long hair.

"Hey."

She laughed and pounded a balled up fist on his chest plate. "'Hey' is an understatement, mister," she said, "I don't put out for you to get half-baked greetings like 'hey' in return."

"Sorry. Next time I'll greet you with hello," Jim said, grinning despite the pain in his leg.

"You'd fucking better," she muttered, wiping her eyes.

Jim laughed. "Are you crying?"

"No!" she said suddenly, "Of course not! This damn weather's just messing with my eyes."

"Right," Jim drawled, "Okay, people, let's get our two lazy companions on the shuttle and get the hell out of here."

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Jim sat down on one side of the shuttle's troop compartment, wheezing as his armor banged into the floor. It had taken longer than he had thought it would to get Verbatix up the ramp, but they had managed and now the Immortal was slumped toward the front of the shuttle. Ian stood next to it, still trying to find a way to reactivate the cybernetic fighter.

Nick flopped down next to Jim, his gas mask piece hanging to one side in a way that Jim had seen numerous Wraith pilots do with their own breathing apparatuses. The Reaper took off the rest of his helmet and sat it aside before running his hand through his hair, rubbing his scalp.

"Your head still hurting?" Jim asked.

Nick nodded. "Yeah, I think that Beacon's EMP shorted out some of the shit in my brain."

"Such as?"

"The aggression inhibitor, scattered elements of what the Confederates attempted to resoc, shit like that," Nick answered.

Jim looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure out how to word his next question in a way that wouldn't come off as rude. Thankfully, Nick caught his look and put two and two together.

"No, I'm not going to stab anyone to death," he said, "I've got more self control then you give me credit for."

"Just making sure," Jim muttered.

"I understand."

Katsuragi stepped quickly back to their position, her knee high polished boots clicking smartly on the golden floor. "We're almost home," she reported, "No contact established with Hyuga and Jefferies, but with this weather it's really no surprise."

"Great," Jim said, "Ian, status of our Immortal friend?"

"Immortally immobile, sir," Ian shot back, pounding his fist on the big walker's leg, "Bastard just won't reboot."

"Robinson? How's Nanius?"

"Still knocked out," the UED commando replied.

"Then we still have to carry them out when we land," Jim said, groaning as he got to his feet.

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When the shuttle's ramp dropped, Jim and Nick were the first out, carrying Nanius between them. As they got out from under the craft's running lights, Jim saw Hyuga standing in front of him. The helmsman was rubbing his head and under the harsh lights of Jim's shoulder lamp, it was clear that he'd been in a fight by the bruises that adorned his face.

Katsuragi pushed past Jim, not an easy thing to do to a marine in full combat gear, and grabbed Hyuga by the shoulders. "Hyuga! What happened?" she asked, checking his injuries.

"It was Jefferies," Hyuga said, "He left. I tried to stop him, but…"

Now it was Jim's turn to push Katsuragi out of the way, dropping Nanius like a sack of flour in the face of this new development. He grabbed Hyuga in much the same way that Katsuragi had, minus the gentleness of a longtime friend and more like an interrogator.

"Where did he go?" he asked, voice just shy of yelling.

"I-I don't know. He said something about finishing something, but I…" Hyuga was clearly too messed up from his fight to think clearly.

"Did he take a shuttle?" Jim pressed.

"Yeah," Hyuga said, perking up at more aeronautical conversation, "I tracked his flight plan. Here."

Jim took the small data stick that Hyuga held out to him. He turned to Ian, who had just finished unloading Verbatix. "Heads up!"

Ian caught the stick, nodded, and headed back inside their shuttle. Jim looked back over at Katsuragi.

"Stay here and help Robinson get Nanius and Verbatix inside," he said, "Make sure nothing happens to them."

"Sure Jim. Be careful."

Jim turned from the top of the ramp where Nick was working the closing controls and smiled reassuringly at his lover. "Don't worry, I'll be right back."


	84. Chapter 84

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 84: Them!**

Asuka stepped out of her shuttle at the center of the Akilae main base. The storm that now covered the entire planet was really working itself up into a frenzy, creating a breeze that blew her black robe around as she moved. Just like every other Protoss camp across Aiur, the Akilae base was dead, its occupants lying comatose in the narrow avenues between its various structures.

Asuka quickly moved through the streets, knowing that it wouldn't be long before they regained consciousness, albeit with a slightly different world outlook. She made her way to the central Nexus and used her warp blade to hack her way through the main entrance. Sliding inside, she found that the power was still on, bathing the long, golden arched corridors with a cool indirect lighting.

She walked amid the slumped forms of Akilae templar and their assistants, casually scanning control terminals, committing all that she saw to memory in the vast recesses of her mind. Her heels clicking as she moved was the only sound in the entire Nexus, save for the quiet humming of smooth Protoss technology. She imagined that the whole scene would be incredibly eerie to any normal Terran not accustomed to such things.

Asuka made her way to the very center of the pyramidal structure, finding herself in the inner sanctum of the Akilae's leader: Executor Hyrazal.

She had to admit that the man had interesting taste. The ceiling ascended to the very top of the Nexus, ending in a point accentuated by a glowing power pylon. The Akilae tribal symbol was emblazoned on each of the four walls, ringed on each by a band of green, the Akilae's traditional color. In a spiral that slowly moved inward toward the center was a train of cylindrical pillars, each made of ancient stone.

It was all very impressive, but Asuka thought it much too pompous. She would have preferred a smaller, darker command post.

At the center of the room was the mighty Executor himself, slumped across an alter. She walked over to him and grabbed the tendrils protruding from the back of his head, using them to pull him out of the way. His robed body thumped onto the tile, but Asuka didn't give him another thought, already fixated on the object he had been protecting even in his comatose form.

The orb was much too perfect to be made by even the most skilled of Protoss hands, too clear to have been cured by the Protoss, too magnificent to have been conceived by any race other than the ones that undeniably had made it: the Xel'Naga.

This was what Asuka had come to Aiur for, what Ranyt had slaved to find the purpose of, and what countless races would war over if they only knew its purpose.

With careful but forceful hands, Asuka reached out to grasp it.

_Chu-chink!_

She stopped immediately. The sound echoed around the vast chamber, unmistakable for anything other than what it was: the chambering of a C10 canister rifle.

"Now its my turn to ask questions," Jefferies said, decloaking before her, his rifle aimed at her head from across the alter, "You and I both know that at this range, its impossible for me to miss you. However, we both also know that you can teleport short distances, so in the end its really anyone's guess as to if my round would hit you."

"Pretty much fifty-fifty," Asuka spoke, a smirk creasing her features.

"Exactly," the veteran Ghost said, "So for now, let's just have a little chat."

"Agreed," she said, "What would you like to talk about?"

Jefferies smiled. "I know what you're trying to do, you and that little half-breed brat."

"Really?" Asuka said in mock surprise, "Could it be that someone told you?"

"You're referring to my benefactors on Shakuras," Jefferies stated, "Yes, they are the ones who contacted me."

"Idiots," Asuka muttered, not breaking eye contact.

"Oh, they're smarter than you give them credit for," Jefferies said, "After all, they did figure out what you're trying to do."

"Washed up old men," Asuka said, dismissing the matter with a wave of the hand, "They have no idea what I'm going to do to them when this is all over. What, did they offer you money or something?"

Jefferies laughed, a bitter sound with no humor in it. "No, they just told me what your actions would do. I offered to stop you for nothing at all."

"Why'd you start with Jim?" she asked.

"Fate has a way of bringing the two of you together," Jefferies answered, "Besides, its not like there were any more leads burning to be explored. You get around faster than I can keep up. This time, though, you walked right into me. Worked pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah, it did. So, what're you supposed to do with me? Blow my head off and serve it up to them on a plate?" she asked, growing impatient.

"No, your brain is too valuable. I'm just supposed to stop you from getting all the pieces to the puzzle," the older man said.

"Meaning that you need to walk away from here with that orb," she said, smiling, "Gonna be pretty hard, sir."

"I've had harder assignments," Jefferies said, "I always did like you, kid. You were the best of the best, and I was always proud of you."

"Gee, thanks dad."

"Fuck off," the one-eyed man spat.

Jefferies squeezed the trigger.


	85. Chapter 85

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 85: Assimilation**

The C10 boomed, throwing a 20mm shell out of its barrel directly for Asuka's head. Instantly, she was out of the way, vanishing in a flash of blue. She reappeared atop one of the nearby stone pillars, crouching like a cat. Her warp blade came on, its energizing crackle filling the room with an echoing pop. Jefferies chambered another round and turned to aim up at his former student, lining her head up in the crosshairs.

"You nearly blew my head off," she teased, "I thought I was too valuable to kill."

"Yeah, well, while collateral damage is frowned upon, it is preferable to failure," he replied.

The large caliber weapon gave off a second report, throwing out a one-foot flame from its barrel. Asuka didn't even teleport, instead simply dropping off the pillar to one side, evading the shot by a hair length. She hung on the side of the cylinder with one hand, then used it as a springboard to jump to another pillar.

Jefferies chased her with another shell, hitting the stone in a huge explosion. Asuka vanished in the smoke, disappearing from sight before Jefferies could fire again. The empty casing from his recent shot hit the ground, the impact ringing hollowly through the cavern of a room. He stood perfectly still, listening intently for any noise that might tip him off to her location.

Suddenly, she appeared in front of him, her cloaking field dissipating to reveal the warp blade as it came down from high above her head. Jefferies held his rifle up in a feeble defense, sacrificing it to the sparking green blade in favor of prolonging his own life for a few precious seconds. The weapon was cleaved in half, the chambered shell going off with explosive force from the heat.

The flame and resulting shrapnel caused Asuka to recoil in surprise, giving Jefferies enough time to draw his slugthrower. He fired off the entire clip in her direction before she blinked out of existence, dodging the latter half of the magazine. Stumbling to his feet, Jefferies reloaded his sidearm, racking the bolt back and forth with a purposeful motion. Hopefully at least a few of the 9mm bullets had found their mark, otherwise this fight was going to get a whole lot harder.

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Asuka leaned against the backside of the pillar farthest away from Jefferies, clutching at her bleeding stomach. Blood slicked across her fingers, dropping onto the floor in red teardrops. She stifled a whimper, knowing that the astute Ghost across the room would hear it in a heartbeat and know she was wounded. Only one of the fourteen shots had hit her, but without anything in the way of armor aside from her old stealth suit under her robe, it had done quite a bit of damage.

In any event, he was going to get that orb if she didn't do something right now. Gathering up her senses, Asuka blinked across the room to her former teacher.

She swung and sliced the slugthrower apart, then drew back for cut across his chest. Jefferies ducked under her second swing, coming up with a psi knife. He stabbed at her, cutting a gash across her right bicep. It burned like hell, and as Asuka swung at him again she did so with a shout of pain. Jefferies blocked her attack with his knife, the two energy weapons sparking as they locked together.

Their eyes locked, Jefferies looking down at her through his one good pupil while Asuka bored into his vision from below with her two blue orbs. They struggled against each other, pushing as hard as their combat-honed bodies could manage, each trying to get their own blade into their target's face. Jefferies grunted, veins becoming visible, protruding from his cropped gray hair. He bared his teeth, slowly forcing his knife lower and lower toward his former student's neck.

Asuka suddenly growled, her blue eyes flashing green. She pushed, throwing Jefferies across the room and into a pillar. His back broke against the age-old stone and he slumped to the ground, gasping for air. The psi knife had skidded across the room, ending up against the wall, much to far away for him to make a grab for it.

Looking up, he saw Asuka slowly strolling across the brickwork floor, her feet moving so fluidly that it looked as if she was gliding. Her warp blade grew longer from her heightened state of power, and the bullet wound in her stomach didn't even seem to phase her. At that moment, looking at that remorseless creature, Tom Jefferies knew he was going to die.

"Hey bitch!"

Asuka whipped her head around in the direction of the entrance just in time to see Jim squeeze off a volley of shots with his Impaler. The heavy machinegun roared, throwing an amount of munitions into the air that only a piece of Terran engineering could achieve. The full wave of spikes hurtled toward Asuka, hell bent on shredding her body limb from limb-

-and then they stopped, suspended in mid-air only two feet from their target. They fell to the ground, tinkling like harmless wind chimes.

"Shit," Jim muttered.

He took a brief glance at his rifle's ammo counter. It read 000.

"Double shit."

Suddenly, Asuka was in front of him. She grabbed the rim of his helmet and hauled him up into the air, holding him there with one impossibly strong arm. Her green eyes seemed to look right through him as she spoke the words that Jim had been terrified she might say.

"Look at me, Jim."

Two tendrils of energy snaked out of her glowing pupils and tentatively probed Jim's eyes. He felt them scurry through his brain, and knew all too well what was going to happen next.


	86. Chapter 86

**Author's Note: New update. Trying to do that whole 'update every Friday' thing that so many aspire for but few ever reach. I'm one of the few who never reaches it, which is obvious if you've been reading this story or its predecessor. At least we haven't had a two-to-three month break right in the middle like we did in Brain Damage. Oh, the memories, how they burn...anywho, we're almost there boys and girls! Or, mostly boys I think. Girls tend to get put off by the bullets, guns, burly men and cursing. But I digress. Here's the update, and don't forget to review! Profile or not, your thoughts are always needed!**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 86: Shadowy Allusions**

Asuka smiled as she sifted through Jim's mind, digging up the most hidden bits of his being for examination. Memories of his childhood dog, the memory of his brother's birth, the smell of his father's after-shave, the first time he kissed a girl. All these were mixed in with feelings: the pride of graduating boot camp, the sinking feeling of deep loss, the terror of his first encounter with the Zerg.

Asuka tightened her telepathic grip on the memories, an action visually represented by a slight fluctuating pulse in the beams connecting her eyes to Jim's. She was just about to pull them from his head and compartmentalize them in her own wetware when something went drastically wrong.

The pulse reversed, feeding backward as information was suddenly transferred from Asuka into the marine in her grasp. She tried to stop it, but found that she had momentarily lost control of her own body. What the hell was going on?

Jim jerked as if he'd been shot, his mouth opening to let out a high pitched scream. Asuka felt his surprise and was sure that Jim wasn't causing it, but rather something in her own head. Then as quickly as it had begun, the transfer stopped. The twin beams collapsed, dissipating into the air harmlessly.

Asuka dropped Jim to the ground with a clang and stumbled backward, checking her own mind for damage. She didn't feel an overwhelming sense of loss, so none of her memories were gone. But something had been transferred; she just couldn't put a finger on what it was. While she was searching her own soul, Nick and Ian entered the chamber with their weapons drawn.

Nick took one look at the twitching form of Jim Goss before opening fire with his Scythe pistols. Asuka leapt backward, flipping in mid-air to avoid the shots, and landed next to the altar she had come for in the first place. She snatched the Xel'Naga orb off of the platform and tucked it into her robe, realizing that now was not the time for fighting.

If she could lose control of her motor functions once then she wasn't about to fight without knowing how to prevent a follow up incident. She blinked past the two new combatants and was off running toward the exit before they could chase her with weapons fire.

Ian turned to pursue, but Nick stayed him with a hand on his shoulder. "You go after her alone and she'll kill you," he said, "Check on Jim."

Logical reasoning, no matter how dryly delivered, prevailed over the primal urge to kill something and Ian relented. The tech jogged over to Jim and knelt down while pulling a scanner off his left hip. He switched the scanner to its medical function, bringing up a vital reader. As he started to run it across the Major's body, Nick walked up beside him, reloading his pistols.

"Anything abnormal?" the Reaper asked.

Ian flipped his visor up. "Well, his temperature is at 106 degrees, his brain activity is off the chart, his heart rate's jacked like he's been running forever and he's sweating from every pore in his body," he replied, "So, yeah, I'd say there are some things abnormal."

"Can we move him?" Nick asked, continuing on despite Ian's hostility.

Ian gestured around them. "We're in the middle of a Protoss Nexus. _Not_ moving him is kind of out of the question, isn't it?

Suddenly, a Scythe pistol was leveled with Ian's head. He looked up at Nick, but couldn't make out his expression with the full-face Reaper mask in the way.

"If Jim were conscious right now, he would probably put up with your smart ass comments. However, he is not, which leaves me in command of all ground forces until such time as he awakens. Meaning that you will stop sassing me or Mr. P-45 Scythe here is going to show you what color your brain is," the jump-jetting lieutenant explained in a voice absolutely devoid of emotion, "Got that?"

Ian scowled for a moment, but finally relented. "Yeah, I got that."

"Good," Nick said. He spun his weapon around and holstered it with a motion that had gained fluidity through nine years of practice. "Stabilize him for transport."

As Ian got to work, Nick walked across the chamber to where Jefferies was laying up against a pillar. The old Ghost was clearly in a lot of pain, with blood pooling around him from where the impact trauma of hitting the pillar had cut him. As Nick approached it became plainly evident that the one-eyed man had lost too much blood at this point, and was beyond help.

"McCabe," he wheezed as Nick crouched down beside him, "Listen to me."

Nick stared at the old veteran, his hand halfway to the butt of one of his pistols. His original intent had been a mercy killing, but by the urgent tone in Jefferies voice, it seemed like he had something to say. Staring hard at the older man, Nick lowered his hand.

"I don't have long left, so listen good and don't interrupt me," Jefferies said, setting a remarkably sturdy hand on Nick's shoulder pad, "Go to Shakuras. Find the Shadow Council and stop Soryu before she gets the last two artifacts, or else…"

"Or else what, Jefferies?" Nick asked.

Jefferies' hand slipped off Nick's shoulder, falling slowly to the ground, devoid of life. His upper body weight pulled him down and to the right, positioning him on his back, blankly staring at the vaulted ceiling. Nick reached out, and with a rare display of compassion brushed the fallen warrior's eyelid shut. As Nick stood and walked away, leaving Jefferies behind all alone in the empty room, he figured that the cynical old soldier wouldn't mind. In fact, he guessed the solitude would have been appreciated.

After all, he was a Ghost.


	87. Chapter 87

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 87: One**

Nick looked out the frontal view port, watching as the shuttle sped across the ocean. Off in the distance he could see the island approaching, and on top of it the low plateau he had come to associate with home. The sky was completely black, leaving only green flashes of lightning to illuminate the skyline in intermittent strobes.

Turning around, Nick stepped back into the troop compartment, his jumpjets moving back and forth on pivot joints with each stride. Ian was crouched next to Jim, removing the marine's armor one piece at a time. He had wrapped Jim's broken leg in a splint of sorts by using the power cables for his psi bayonet to tie his leg to his Impaler, keeping it straight.

However, none of this helped the real problem of Jim's ridiculously high fever.

And what the hell had Jefferies been talking about, anyway? Shakuras, a Shadow Council, two more artifacts that Asuka was chasing after and the need to stop her. Nick hadn't liked the Ghost at first, but he had started to grow on him. It sucked that he was dead, but at the moment he had other things to deal with.

"God, its like he's going to explode," Ian muttered.

"What do you mean?" Nick asked.

Ian opened his mouth to begin a smarmy comeback, but remembered their discussion about the consequences of that and stopped himself. "His brain is going nuts, like he's dreaming at the speed of light or something," the tech said, looking at his scanner, "Do you know how fast 352 EKP waves a minute is?"

"No," Nick said honestly.

"Well, I'm not one hundred percent either, but its pretty fucking fast!" Ian exclaimed, "I'm shaking. You got a cigarette?"

"Nope," the Reaper replied, as he pulled a pack of Red Apples out of the D18 bandoleer hanging across his chest.

"You've got a full pack right there!" Ian said, "Can I have one or not?"

"No."

Ian sighed. "Then what the hell am I gonna do about these shakes, man?"

"Ask Jim for one," Nick said, lighting a smoke with the residual heat radiating from one of his jumpjets.

"He's out cold!" the tech protested.

Nick took a puff and shrugged. "Sounds like a personal problem."

"I hate you."

"The feeling's mutual."

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Rasinar opened his eyes. Fully this time, not in the halfway fashion that he had been doing for the past few hours as he drifted in and out of coherence. Now he was totally awake and more alive than he had ever been in his entire life.

Sitting up on the examination table, he felt his mind swirl as one with the clouds outside. A million thoughts echoed within his brain, each one equally loud. Personalities swelled and receded like a rippling psionic tide, crashing against each other in the space inside Rasinar's head. They came from all across Aiur, from every walk of life in every tribe imaginable.

Shelak, Ara, Akilae, Yatuj'a and some independents, loners with no banner to rally beneath, all delving into Rasinar's head, feeding into it through the Beacon.

Rasinar stood on shaky legs, still not quite comfortable with this new sensation of having every Protoss on Aiur feeding into his mind. It was like the Kahla, even using the same method of connection, but was quite different. Though Rasinar felt every thought under this new influence, it was clear by their fear that no other Protoss could feel any other thoughts.

Their connection with all others in their species was broken, leaving each of them alone, individual, and quite frightened.

Using his direct relationship with the Beacon, Rasinar reached out to all the minds beneath him, tapping directly into the deepest recesses of their conscious beings, breaking down their mental barriers against intrusion. Some immediately submitted to his touch, finding that in this new state, they could once again be in contact with another's mind.

Others rebelled, issuing out a thousand different calls against this dictatorial connection from within their sleeping minds. Rasinar recoiled, but came back with a vengeance, breaking the rebellious thoughts from within, using his intimate relationship with each to his advantage. Soon, the myriad walls of individuality collapsed, leaving each Protoss mind beneath his control blank, their personalities and novel thoughts repressed into submission.

Across Aiur, Protoss came out of their comatose rest, moving as one, thinking as one, acting as one, no longer individuals, only peons under their leader. Rasinar began moving his new pawns, issuing a pilgrimage. Now that everyone saw things his way, it was about time that they got this new genesis thing into overdrive.


	88. Chapter 88

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 88: On the Wings of the Night**

Without his bulky armor in the way, Jim was incredibly easy to carry. Nick realized this as he carefully positioned the unconscious Major over his shoulder, stepping down out of the shuttle as he did so. Ian soon followed, carrying Jim's disassembled armor in a steel ammo crate. High above where they stood on the grassy plateau, the storm was increasing in intensity.

More lightning crackled as the two men made their way to the entrance to the facility. A square of grass slid aside, revealing a steel plate. Nick and Ian stepped onto the elevator and it quickly rumbled off down the shaft. Above them, the nifty grass covering slid back into place, concealing the entryway to any passerby, be it foot soldier or recon flight.

The lift, despite being aeons old, came to a gentle stop at the bottom of its track. Nick stepped off and headed down a long corridor, heading for the commons area, sure that everyone would be bunched in there watching over Nanius and Verbatix. As he rounded the corner and entered the room, Nick realized two things about his presumption.

One: everyone was bunched in the commons room.

Two: no one was watching over Nanius and Verbatix.

In fact, one could say that Nanius and Verbatix were actually watching over everyone else. Robinson, Hyuga, Katsuragi and the three former Dominion marines that had come with them to Aiur were kneeling on the opposite side of the holographic table from Nick, their hands bound before them with high-tension cable.

Behind the hostages stood Nanius, his psi lance and plasma shield burning brightly in the shadowy room. Next to him was Verbatix. The Immortal's steel body almost touched the ceiling and his phase disrupters were glowing with a soft but determined heat, both aimed in Nick and Ian's general direction.

"Lay your weapons down, Terran!" Nanius bellowed, his thoughts echoing around the room.

Carefully and with exaggerated slowness, Nick lay Jim down on the ground. Katsuragi, even bound like she was, tried to look at her limp lover, concerned for him despite the dire situation she was in. Nick stood back up and locked his eyes with Nanius, noting that the Protoss had gone from having soft blue eyes to harsh orange ones.

He was sure that if Jim were in his situation, he would try and talk Nanius out of whatever the Protoss soldier might be going through, a process that Nick figured made sense. However, Nick wasn't very diplomatic even at the best of times, and with his neural inhibitors acting all buggy from the EMP, now was hardly the best of times.

Needless to say, he gave it his best shot.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" the Reaper asked, setting his feet firmly apart, ready to jet across the room at a moment's notice.

The words seemed to get through to Nanius, and he blinked as he tried to search for an answer. However, in this lapse of concentration, Verbatix cut in.

"Drop your weapons!" the Immortal roared, "You have ten seconds to comply!"

Nick looked across the area, sizing up what had to be done. He had seen Nanius kill more than his fair share of Protoss, Zerg and Terran alike, all of which with remarkable professionalism and grace. Engaging the zealot in combat wasn't something that he was too thrilled about doing and doing it with a twenty-ton walker harrying him didn't help things.

So, when Verbatix was just about to start his countdown, Nick threw a D18 charge at him. The charge latched onto the Immortal's right weapons arm, beeped twice and exploded. The arm was severed in a dazzling spray of blue sparks, sending the limb and phase disrupter on it spinning to the ground.

Verbatix swung his other disrupter into line and fired, blasting the doorway with a withering hail of antimatter bolts. But it was all too late, Nick having already jetted further into the room while Ian retreated, pulling Jim's unconscious body along with him.

Nick landed in cover behind the holographic table, taking cover from the Immortal's fire. More blue energy sizzled into the table above him, melting its display surface. Peeking out from around the side, Nick saw Nanius beginning an execution of the hostages, starting from the right with one of the former Dominion troops.

The normally noble and honorable Nanius stabbed downward through the back of the helpless man's neck, forcing his blade through and out of the marine's chest. Blood gushed from the open wound, while yet more frothed from the dying man's screaming mouth. Red stained the floor as Nanius retracted the lance and pushed the dead man forward, landing him face-first in his own life fluid.

As the warrior-turned-executioner moved to the next marine, Nick shouted back to Ian. "Cover me!"

The tech popped out from behind the doorframe and sprayed Verbatix with his Impaler. The Immortal re-targeted his only disrupter cannon, giving Nick the leeway he needed to stand up, swinging his pistols around…


	89. Chapter 89

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 89: Round and Round**

Katsuragi thrust her hands in the air, pulling them as far apart as she possibly could with the little slack provided by the cable wrapped about her wrists. Normally, she wouldn't put this much faith in any one person, but if she didn't trust Nick right now then death was right around the corner. Clearly, Nanius wasn't acting under his own will, and Katsuragi thought she knew how to fix it.

Nick fired once, the bullet slashing through the cables and passing by so close to the top of her head that strands of hair were kicked up in its wake. Her hands free, she stood and ran toward the holo-table, on which Nanius had piled all of their confiscated weapons. She hopped up onto the plasma scored surface and snatched up her saber and Ronin service pistol without even breaking stride.

She reached the other side, ducking down next to Nick. The Reaper fired off the rest of his ammunition, blowing Nanius' body shield out of the way, before crouching down with Katsuragi. An instant after his head got below the table's rim, Verbatix unloaded on their position with his disrupter. As more of the antimatter bolts hammered their cover, Katsuragi turned to look at him.

"The Beacon's controlling them!" she shouted over the exploding plasma and splashing molten steel.

Nick nodded, clearly having already put two and two together.

"I think I know how to sever its influence!" she continued, "If we can cut his tendrils, it should bring him out of it! That's why humans aren't affected: we don't have any!"

Nick nodded again, then turned to where Ian was hiding behind the doorway. "Covering fire!"

Another shattering barrage of spikes erupted from the doorway, pinging against Verbatix's metal shell. The Immortal's fire again moved to Ian's position, and Katsuragi had just begun to rise when something grabbed her roughly by the hair. She was pulled up violently, and soon found herself staring into the orange eyes of Nanius.

The crazed warrior held her with one hand in her hair, holding her up while he drew back his psi lance for a strike at her chest. He looked into her eyes and seemed to hesitate for a split second.

It was that slight hesitation that allowed Nick to put a wave of pistol shots in his side. Nanius stumbled to the left, dropping Katsuragi to the molten top of the table. She saw Verbatix swing his weapon back around to shoot her, but couldn't with Nanius in the way. Nick's remaining full pistol was jammed, preventing him from firing more, and Nanius had just turned fully away from her.

It was at that moment, where everything came together just right, which Katsuragi thanked all the countless fencing lessons she'd been given as a little girl. Her saber flicked out with the delicate grace that only practice could breed and sliced through the bundle of tendrils running down out of the back of Nanius' head.

They snapped like cables on a suspension bridge, snapping and falling to the ground like a scattering of wires. Nanius howled in pain and fell, his body tumbling sideways off of the table. This of course gave Verbatix a clear shot, which he immediately took.

Katsuragi's life would have ended there, with her body vanishing in a spray of plasma, if Nick hadn't grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her out of the way. She hit the ground on her stomach and turned to thank him, but he was already gone, his jumpjets powering him across the room, headfirst into Verbatix.

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One of Nick's Scythe pistols was empty; all of its rounds now embedded in Nanius' right side. The other was jammed, making it totally useless at the present time as well. He would have used a D18 charge, but his final one had been used to injure Verbatix at the beginning of the firefight. So as he closed with the raging, one armed immortal, Nick's options for combat were significantly reduced.

In the end, Nick went with a less-than-complex tactic: landing on his opponent's front, grabbing its stumped arm for support and beating the shit out of its face.

His punches managed to break a glass 'eye' camera, cave in a targeting sensor and generally dent the surrounding metal before Verbatix finally threw him off with a rapid side-to-side movement. Nick landed on his stomach, looking up at his opponent. He jumped to his feet and powered through the air again, straight for the offending Immortal.

This time, however, Verbatix was ready. He hit Nick in the head with his remaining arm, knocking him off course and into a wall. Nick's suited body broke the stone, but not without cost. One of his jets busted open from the impact, leaking its fuel across the floor around him. Nick looked at the fuel, then at the phase disrupter pointed in his direction, and figured that his death would involve a lot of fire.

Suddenly, Verbatix shuddered, bucked and wailed. Servos whined as the four-legged cybernetic warrior careened over, crashing through what remained of the blasted holo-table. Sparks blew out in all directions as the electronic circuitry of the table fried from the blunt force impact.

Nick saw Nanius retract his psi lance from Verbatix's back and stand up. The absence of his tendrils was clear, and Nick thought it made him look all the more deadly. The warrior poet walked over and helped Nick up, the Reaper noticing that his eyes were back to their typical blue color.

"You okay now?" he asked.

"Indeed I am, Lieutenant McCabe," Nanius replied, "Let us not dawdle idly. Rasinar now grows stronger than ever. Come, I have much knowledge to impart upon you."


	90. Chapter 90

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 90: Forgiveness**

Katsuragi set her hand gently on Jim's forehead, feeling the skin slick with sweat. His eyes fluttered back and forth rapidly beneath his lids, clear signs of intense dreaming. According to Ian, he was impossible to awaken, even with punches to the ribs, so she didn't even waste her energy. She just wished there was something she could do, or at the very least, some way to learn what was going on inside his head.

"Uh, ma'am?"

Katsuragi looked over her shoulder to see Hyuga standing in the open doorway. "Yes?" she asked, annoyed at his interruption.

"Nanius is holding a council in the commons area," the helmsman reported, then thought to add, "Or, what's left of the commons area…"

"Tell him I'll be right there," she said.

"Right away, ma'am."

As Hyuga scampered off down the corridor, Katsuragi looked back to her immobile lover. She looked at him for a long moment, thinking of how terribly helpless he seemed in his present condition. Finally, she bent and gave him a quick kiss before leaving the room.

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Nanius knelt next to the former Dominion marine he had executed during his time under Rasinar's control. He rolled the man over and with a gentle brush of his hand closed the man's staring eyes. He started to stand, but stopped himself. In one fluid movement, he took off his plush Bengalaas cloak and draped it over the body.

Standing, he turned to the remaining two marines. "I was not myself when your comrade was killed, but it was still I who dealt the fatal blow," he said, standing prouder than ever, "Your anger is not misplaced, as it is your right as he friend to be so, but I hope that you can learn in time to accept my apologies."

One of the marines nodded and extended his hand. Nanius immediately shook with the young man, apologizing once again. Then he turned to the second marine, who unlike his buddy, had some choice words for Nanius.

"Fuck you! Fuck the Protoss and fuck this whole damn planet!" the marine yelled, bringing up his Impaler, "Die you asshole!"

Nanius moved aside and dodged the first shot. He grabbed the rifle's barrel and pulled it from the marine's grasp. Tossing the useless machinegun across the room, Nanius gripped the marine around the neck.

"I feel your pain and forgive this outburst towards me, but know that my patience, while vast, is undeniably finite. Do this again and you will face a penalty far worse than disarmament," Nanius warned.

He released the marine, who stumbled backward, turned, and opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the right side of his head disappeared. Brain fountained into the air as the dead man crumpled to the ground.

The last marine looked over at Nick, whose Scythe pistol was still smoking. "What the hell ma-"

Nick turned and squeezed off a second shot, blowing the marine's face apart. He slumped to the floor alongside his brainless friend, together in death. It was only when Nick had holstered his pistol that he saw Ian, Nanius, Hyuga and Robinson all staring at him.

"They were both unstable," the Reaper defended.

"An ironic way of putting it," Nanius said, his tone echoing Nick's own dryness.

Nick's jaw tightened. "Don't push me."

"I do not intend to push you, Nick McCabe," the Protoss said, "But I must point out that you are having more and more trouble controlling yourself, and I sense increasingly disturbing thoughts coursing through your mind."

"I'm dealing with it," was all Nick said.

Nanius would have pressed the issue, but Katsuragi chose that exact moment to enter.

"So, what'd I miss?" she asked.

Looking around the room, she noted that there was not only much more tension going around then there should have been, but also that there were two additional corpses on the ground.

"Not a thing," Nanius rumbled, "Now, let us get down to 'brass tacks'."


	91. Chapter 91

**Author's Note: Since "Daddy needs a new batch of chapters" I give you this. If you read Brain Damage, then you know the drill when it comes to the last few chapters: things wind up tighter and tighter and end up exploding in 100. Now, things might move a bit slow through this batch. There's a reason for that. This is just kind of mopping up after myself so that the climax can take place. Oh, and a few more questions will be posed, but those won't be answered until next time. Like, next story, next time. Until then, drop your thoughts in the review section. Or a PM, I'm quite flexible.**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 91: Of Hives and Men**

"Uh, Nanius?" Ian said, "Is that normal for a dead Immortal?"

Nanius glanced at Verbatix, who had one mechanical leg still twitching. "No," he responded.

"Then why is he doing it?" Ian pressed.

Nanius' answer was simple. "He is not dead."

At once, everyone in the commons room backed away from the toppled cybernetic warrior, each drawing their weapons. Ian held his Impaler unsteadily, clearly more than freaked out at the sudden news. Nick, on the other hand, was even jitterier, shifting from foot to foot, holding a Scythe and D18 charge, one to each fist.

"Okay," Katsuragi said, her Ronin pistol not wavering even in the slightest, "Let's not do anything stupid. Nanius, why is he alive? You stabbed him in the back."

The young Executor hadn't moved from his position right next to his comatose comrade, resolute in his stance. "When I attacked Verbatix, I did so not with the intent to kill, but to sever him from the unholy bond that has fused our entire race."

"So you cut his tendrils?" Katsuragi asked.

"Yes," Nanius confirmed.

The UED captain smiled and lowered her sidearm. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"I did," the Protoss countered.

"Not really, but good shot anyway," she said.

Everyone around the room put away their weapons without pause, all except Nick, who hesitated a second before deciding that they might actually end up needing Verbatix for something. He reluctantly put up his pistol and explosive and stepped into the huddle at the head of what used to be the room's table. Katsuragi patted her pockets, searching for a cigarette pack, but found none.

Hyuga reached across the table and handed her one of his own cancer sticks, which she gratefully lit. Taking a long drag, she started in on what she had to say.

"Look, my…best friend is laying back there in a coma," she said, crossing her arms, "Aside from making me feel all empty and alone and all that good stuff, that also leaves us without a commanding officer until he comes around. So you'll have to excuse my brashness when I say this: Nanius, what the _hell_ happened?"

"Slavery," the Protoss answered dramatically.

"Sorry, Nanius, but we're gonna need a little more extrapolation than just 'slavery' in a dramatic booming voice."

Nanius bristled with annoyance. "Very well, my good captain," he said eventually, falling into a tone known to all the Dogs as his story telling voice. Not that any of them objected, as Nanius was quite the storyteller.

"When Rasinar activated the Beacon, it sent a psionic pulse roiling across the surface of this great planet, roaring into each of my peoples' minds with enough power to render us unconscious," he began, "It was during this time of unwanted sleep that the Beacon, whatever it is comprised of, forged a dictatorial link between all Protoss. Our minds were severed from the Kahla commune and…rerouted, to capitulate only to one consciousness.

"My consciousness, like that of all my species, was eroded to near nothing. I was linked to Rasinar in much the same way as a Zergling is linked to its master, leaving it a selfless, drooling abomination. But now, without my tendrils, I fear as though I will never experience the direct link between minds in any fashion ever again."

Katsuragi frowned. "I'm sorry about that, Nanius," she said, "But it had to be done. Right?"

"Indeed it did, Captain. And I harbor nothing but thanks toward the service you did me. However, I do hold feeling of remorse," Nanius said, going oddly silent.

"A hive mind," Ian muttered, "The Beacon made the Protoss a hive mind."

Nanius nodded. "Yes, Ian Matthews, you are correct. But this hive mind is of a danger far in excess of that the Zerg once possessed."

"How so?" Nick asked.

"Well, if you think of the effects of Terrazine on my species, you'll recall that it makes us remarkably difficult to dispatch. That, combined with perfect synchronized control over each member of the Protoss at once would make a formidable army," the warrior poet answered.

Everyone stood silent for a moment, thinking about the situation at hand.

"This is bad," Ian finally said.

"Indeed."


	92. Chapter 92

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 92: Looking Up**

Asuka walked through the Terrazine Lake Base, her right hand snaking underneath her robes to hold her bleeding side. In her left hand was the Xel'Naga orb she had fought and manipulated so hard to obtain. It, too, was being held within her cloak, tightly pressed to her bosom for safe keeping. The result was she looked like a black blur with a head atop it.

The entire trip back she had tried to figure out just what had left her head, and in all that time she had only managed to figure out that it must have been a conscious entity, or at least a partial conscious entity. Whenever she, for lack of a better term, stole someone's soul, she was always sure to leave something behind in the rotting body, just so that once they were in her head they would be too fragmented to pose a problem.

There were exceptions, of course, namely the Dark Templar consciousness cloud that had come out of the memory crystal back on Shakuras. Since she hadn't taken them directly from their host bodies, it was kind of out of her hands. So, one possibility was that it had been one of those original personas jumping out of her head and into Jim's.

But they had no reason to do that, much less a will to after that many years in isolation. Most of them were spiraling downward into a fragmented state of dementia, which while not comfortable for Asuka, was a necessary aspect of her plans. So who, out of all the various beings inside her head, would gain anything from jumping into Jim Goss' head?

She had a suspicion, but it had to be put on hold. Rasinar was walking toward her and if the promptness in his step was any indication, then he was hopping mad.

"You have dishonored our pact!" the preposterously large Protoss fumed.

"How so?" Asuka asked, flicking a stray strand of red hair out of her face.

Rasinar came to a halt mere inches from her, his chest armor brushing against her nose. "You claimed that we would march alongside each other into the Akilae Nexus, united for all to see, upon which time you would obtain the artifact you sought!" he roared, "But the instant I descend into sleep, your treacherous colors make themselves known! You are no more than the Dark One I had suspected you to be upon first sight."

Asuka sighed. "Come on, is it really time to be brash?" she asked, "I and my comrade gave you unwavering control over every Protoss on Aiur and I helped you learn to control your Terrazine-induced powers. Is it really that bad that I went in and got what I wanted?"

Rasinar was silent, his green eyes burning even brighter than normal in anger. However, her logic was undeniable, and he eventually came around. The harsh edges of his eyes softened and he backed off, standing aside. Asuka politely nodded and continued her hobble toward the _Manifestation Eternal_ where it sat hovering in the stasis field of a Stargate.

Rasinar fell into step alongside her, his powerful twelve-foot tall frame making her seem tiny to the point of pitiful. "Now what shall you do?" he asked, spacing his long strides to match her short ones.

"Leave," she said simply.

Rasinar nodded. "And where too?"

She glanced at him sideways. "That isn't for you to bother with, Rasinar," she said coldly, "My destination need not concern you."

Again, Rasinar nodded. They walked on in silence for the rest of the way up to the ship. When they reached it, Asuka hobbled up the ramp and into the doorway, heading inside while the new Protoss Overmind stayed at the foot of the sloped entryway.

"Will we meet again?" Rasinar asked, looking up at her.

Asuka stopped and turned around, her cloak billowing about her in the ozone-smelling air, whipping this way and that from the storm-induced winds. The black cloth blew astray from her body, revealing the crystal orb she held to her body alongside her slung C20. Her warp blade gauntlet hid some of it behind its bulk of black steel and wiring, but nonetheless, Rasinar was lost in its beauty.

It was the only time he would ever see something like it.

"I don't see why we would," she replied, voice carrying just fine over the weather, "Goodbye, Rasinar."

The golden door slid upwards and Asuka disappeared from sight and from Rasinar's life. He would never see Asuka Langley Soryu again, but he could truthfully say that he didn't care. She had given him the gift of the ultimate army, and he wasn't about to just sit around on his ass and do nothing.

First he had to complete the new genesis project and infect them all with the Terrazine-derivative enhancements. Then, with a fleet of regenerating, perfectly synchronized warriors under his command, he would crush the Nerazim left on Shakuras, then assimilate them into his new order. And after that? Well, the United Korpulu Republic would meet the wrath of the Protoss head on.

Life was good.


	93. Chapter 93

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 93: Missing Pieces**

In a flurry of whining gears and screeching metal, Verbatix got to his feet. His upper body swiveled around 360 degrees, scanning the commons room and finding it filled with Terrans, all of which had weapons trained on him. So, naturally, his first instinct was to try and fire on them. However, nothing came out of his left side phase disrupter, and he quickly realized that his right side arm didn't even exist.

He was about to run toward the nearest breathing entity and stomp it to death when Nanius jumped in front of him, hands up in the air.

"Verbatix, calm yourself!" his longtime friend shouted, "We are not your enemies!"

Reluctantly, Verbatix lowered his one present but non-working disrupter. "Nanius, good friend, what has happened? My mind plays tricks with me and I fail to recall what has transpired as of late."

"Give it time, noble Verbatix, and realization will return to your scrambled consciousness," Nanius explained.

"Why are my weapons not working?" the Immortal asked, looking to anyone for an answer.

Ian stepped forward, a slim piece of golden Protoss electronic equipment held in his gloved hand. Verbatix peered at it for a moment through high magnification of his lenses, then recognition slapped him in the face.

"My weaponry activation module!" he roared, "Replace it, Terran!"

Ian grinned, the goggles on his forehead tilted to accentuate the snark of the expression. "Ah, don't worry about it, pal. I'll put it right back in when we've decided you're cool."

Verbatix started to step forward to take the module from the human tech. He wasn't sure how he would put it back in without hands, but by Adun it would be his. However, the sound of a positron cannon charging up for a shot halted him dead in his tracks. He slowly pivoted around to see Robinson, her heavy shoulder mounted weapon leveled with his head.

Not wanting to become a gooey splat sitting on four scorched legs, Verbatix backed down from the fight.

"Sorry, Verbatix, but we can't take any chances until you've got yourself sorted out," Katsuragi said, patting him on one big golden leg.

"Yes, I understand," he replied, then turned to the only other Protoss in the room, "Nanius, what of the Kahla? I do not sense its presence."

Nanius' eyes cooled considerably, an indicator of his unwillingness to speak of the recent atrocity done to his people. But he was one of hardened will, and eventually, he gathered his thoughts enough to inform Verbatix.

"The Kahla was contaminated by the Beacon. Rasinar now retains the one true consciousness for all on this planet, reducing us to mindless pawns," he said, "In order to escape its grasp, my tendrils were severed. Once under my own power again, I did the same for you. I fear that even if the pollution of our Kahla is quelled, we shall never taste of its waters again."

Verbatix stood silent for a time, then retreated from the room and down the corridor.

"Where do you go, friend?" Nanius called after him.

"To a place of solitude, Executor," the Immortal replied, still striding away, "I need time to contemplate this development. Peace would be appreciated."

Nanius watched his friend go, disappearing behind the doorframe on his blood stained mechanical legs. He turned back to his Terran comrades, his thoughts like a worn out desert rain.

"You will have to give him time," he explained, the wording coming through strained and with great effort. How did one explain the emotions of someone they'd known for so long?

"You don't think he'll…you know," Katsuragi said, holding a finger gun up to her temple and depressing her thumb.

Nanius got the idea and shook his head. "No, Verbatix is to proud a warrior. Perishing from a useless impulse such as that is not his way. Rather, going down in a lone act of vengeance is more to his liking."

"Well, it'd be kind of hard anyway," Ian said, lighting a cigarette, "I've got his WAM, remember?"

"His what?" Nick asked from where he stood in the corner, assessing the damage done to his Reaper suit.

Ian held up the object in question. "His weaponry activation module," he said, "Duh."

"That's an unnecessary acronym and you know it," Hyuga put in.

"What can I say? I'm Terran. We love acronyms," Ian replied, tossing the module down on the broken table…

…and shattering it into a billion pieces.

"Great, Ian," Katsuragi said, palming her face, "That helps a lot."

Ian shrugged. "Now I'll just have to pull the big bastard open and rewire his ass from the inside."

"Is that within your realm of expertise?" Nanius asked, looking at the shattered module.

The tech grinned, and Nanius hoped it was one of assurance, not of cockiness, but he knew better than to think so highly.


	94. Chapter 94

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 94: Melancholy Orbit**

Aiur looked diseased, Asuka thought as she looked down at it from _Manifestation Eternal_'s observation deck. The storm that had engulfed its atmosphere was showing no signs of slowing down, and as such the surface was concealed beneath a raging torrent of rippling clouds and crashing lightning. Without even seeing it, she knew that the jungle was being bashed and brutalized by the violent climate.

Asuka thought it a pity. Through the memories of the myriad personalities in her head, she remembered just how beautiful the planet used to be. Of course, when the Zerg invaded it all those years ago, more than sixty percent of the jungle landscape had been destroyed. The parts that weren't violated back then, however, were sure to incur heavy loses during this new development.

If even half of what she predicted to take place came to pass, then by next week Aiur would look as desolate as Moria now did. Or maybe not. None of it really affected her plans at all. But still, it would suck to never see that jungle again.

"Something wrong?" Ranyt asked.

Asuka sighed. "No, nothing."

They stood in silence, looking down as Aiur turned lazily beneath them. More lightning shattered across the view, splitting a monstrous cloud in two just long enough to provide the two watchers with a glimpse of turbulent ocean waves crashing in upon each other so very far below. Then it was gone, swallowed up as the cloud's separated sides came smashing back together in a thunderous shudder.

Ranyt cleared his throat. "Um, did you get the-"

Asuka glared at him out of the corner of her eye, shutting him up mid-sentence. Letting her stare linger, she brought the crystalline orb out from under her cloak and handed it to him. Ranyt took it into a reverent embrace, as though it might shatter if he even so much as touched it with a hint of disrespect in his thoughts.

As he carefully placed it in a container padded enough to soften Zerg carapace; Asuka turned back to the view below her.

"Ranyt, do you ever miss your home?" she asked.

With more than a pinch of confusion evident on his face, Ranyt glanced over at his lover. Her traditionally rough, hardened and guarded exterior had faded away somewhat, laying bare in her eyes what resided beneath her skin. Her two blue eyes looked incredibly sad, worn out and above all, lonely. He expected she was thinking of her own origins, but his response made no mention of those suspicions.

"From time to time, yes," he replied, debating if he should continue. Eventually, he decided on indeed continuing, spurred forth by Asuka's silence. "I expect I wouldn't be human if I didn't."  
As if slapped off her face, the weary, sad and lonely look in her eyes vanished. The hard, rough and aggressive mask came back on, accompanied by flaming anger.

"Who said a damn thing about being human?" she asked, "What are you implying, Ranyt?"

Now, Ranyt had been raised largely as a Protoss, and as such he was pretty good at fighting. However, his 'pretty good' skills would be chewed up and spit out by Asuka's 'above masterful' skills if this came down to a duel, which it very well could if not handled properly. Thankfully, another benefit of being raised largely as a Protoss was that Ranyt was fantastically good at talking his way out of things.

"I did, but not to in any way insult your ultimate goal. As you know, I fully agree with you that attaining the perfect balance of being is not a myth, and that it is in fact a tangible concept. Difficult and trying, yes, but nonetheless tangible," he said, neglecting to add the 'please don't kill me' that he so desperately wanted to scream.

Asuka suddenly grinned, clearly having read his mind. "Don't worry," she said, "I wouldn't kill you. Without you, who else would decipher the locations of the last two artifacts?"

Ranyt tried for a return smile, but only got it halfway up to standards. Asuka laughed at the attempt, looping resting her forearms on his shoulders to pull him into a kiss.

The psi relay emitter in the ceiling sparked to life, amplifying Solyntus' 'voice' across the observation deck. "Executor? Should we break orbit for our destination?"

Asuka pulled away from Ranyt and replied for him. "Yes, thank you Solyntus," she said, then looked back at Aiur.

"What do you think about Rasinar?" Ranyt asked, looking with her.

"Who knows?" she answered, "He'll either die soon or die in a year when the Terrazine stops helping him and starts eating away his body from the inside out. Either way, we won't be seeing him again."

"And if he does live for that year?" Ranyt pressed.

"Well, with all the talk of a new genesis that I gave him, he could very well cause quite a ruckus," she said, smirking, "Tell Solyntus to hurry up, will you? Zerus awaits."

Six minutes later, Manifestation Eternal was barreling through warp space, leaving the ailing world behind it in the wake of its translight jump.


	95. Chapter 95

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 95: Leadership**

Katsuragi strode knocked on the ancient rock that served as the doorframe to Nick's room within the former Xel'Naga research center. The Reaper was sitting on the edge of his bed, turned away from the door. He didn't indicate that he had heard her knock, via words or body language, so Katsuragi repeated it. It wasn't until the third try that he lazily looked over his shoulder and nodded.

Taking that as a welcoming gesture, Katsuragi entered the room. She walked around the foot of the bed and sat down next to him, smoothing out her uniform unconsciously as she did so. The only light in the room was from a weak, flickering candle set off to the side of his bed's headboard. The result was a blurring of edges and poor detail recognition on Katsuragi's part.

Nick's face was obscured, partly from his hair falling down about his face and partly because of the way the candle light threw shadows across his features. His armor was piled in a corner, leaving him in a tattered old white tee shirt and dirty cargo pants. In his lap was an open notebook filled with chicken scratch handwriting that he was still at work on continuing.

Katsuragi couldn't read it in the poor light, but ventured the guess that she probably still wouldn't be able to even in optimal conditions. The handwriting (or what she saw of it) was atrocious.

"Hey, Nick," she said.

He didn't reply, instead keeping up with his writing. Katsuragi wondered what she thought she was doing. In their entire time working together, she'd really only talked to Nick when she'd had to, and those conversations were always short and bland. Communication with the ground pounders was Jim's job, damnit, not hers!

"I, um, we…kind of…ah, what're you writing?" she tried, stumbling over the cluster of half-formed sentences as they appeared in her head.

Once again, Nick didn't respond. His pencil kept scratching down words at a rapid rate. From where Katsuragi sat, it looked like it wasn't even leaving the page, but that could have just been the candlelight messing with her.

"Anyway, we've all been talking, and with Jim out like he is we figured some reordering of the command chain might do us all some good."

Scribble, scribble, scribble.

"Uh, see Nick, Nanius knows the planet's geography a lot better than all of us," she said, "And if we were to get into trouble, it would help if he could make the command decisions. He knows how to think like the enemy, so it'd be good if he were in charge. And besides, he's worked with Terran forces for long enough. He knows how we work, right?"

Scribble, scribble, scribble.

"Okay then, I'll just let you think that over," Katsuragi said as she stood up, "When you're done, just talk to me. Or better yet, talk to Nanius directly."

She started for the door, leaving the Reaper behind.

"You guys think I'm crazy, don't you?"

Katsuragi's boots stopped mid-stride. She turned on her heel and saw that Nick was looking at her, one folded leg up on the bed, his notebook laying atop it. He was dead serious, and she could tell that lying wouldn't do any good.

"Yeah, most of us think you're pretty bats right now," she said, "You alright?"

Nick shook his head in the negative. "Something's totally wrong in my head, Katsuragi," he answered, "But I'm dealing with it."

"Dealing with it?" she echoed.

The Reaper nodded. "Dealing with it. Just…coping. I haven't had to do it since I was a kid, though," he explained.

"So, do you agree that you're unfit to lead the ground forces section of our team?" she pushed. If he was going to break, now would be the time.

"Yes," was all he said.

The UED captain offered up the most sincere smile she could muster, and was about to say something when Hyuga bust in through the door.

"Ma'am! Ma'am! Ma'am!" he shrieked, "There's a-a-a-a-"

"A what, Hyuga? Slow down," she said, setting her hands on the helmsman's shoulders.

"A fleet!" he shouted, "A UKR fleet breaking through the cloud layer! Come quick!"

Katsuragi half ran, half got dragged down the corridor to the commons room, leaving Nick alone in his room. Silently, the Reaper turned back around and picked up his notebook, beginning to write again in hurried, hasty print.

_Kill Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them All. Kill Them All…_


	96. Chapter 96

**Author's Note: Yup, final update. I'll put most of what I have to say at the end of the Epilogue, but something needs to be said right here. I know it took a long time for me to get this last batch out, and it is for a very valid reason. 3 actually. First, my laptop's motherboard was fried, so I was hosed for a week and a half while the friendly folks at Geeks 4 Hire (because name brands are for wimps) got my memory transferred to two discs and until I could get a replacement. Second, my girlfriend and I broke up, which didn't help me concentrate at all. In the drafts I wrote in the weeks after that, almost all the characters died. Swear to God. Third, nothing ever worked right. Chapter 100, no joke, has been written three times, and its sixteen pages on Word. So, I'm sorry it took so long, but give me a break.**

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 96: Blue Skies From Pain**

Katsuragi ran out onto the beach her scuffed dress shoes sinking into the wet sand, and looked up just in time to see a wing of Wraiths scream overhead, the letters UKR emblazoned on the underside of their wings. Off in the distance, circling over the troubled ocean, was a cluster of Battlecruisers. Well, perhaps cluster wasn't the right word.

There were enough Battlecruisers to make Katsuragi fall to her knees and weep with joy, an action she wasn't the least bit embarrassed about.

Three dropships soared in low over the water and hit the sand with a thump of steel and hiss of hydraulics. It was such a different method of landing then the Protoss shuttles Katsuragi had grown used to in the time she had spent on Aiur. The gentle curves and quiet hover drives of shuttles made her sick. The loud, obnoxious and deliberately boxy APOD dropships with their loud, obnoxious and deliberately boxy engines made her happy beyond belief. Finally, help was here.

Ramps dropped, kicking clumps of muddy sand into the air, and marines clad in blue armor surged out onto the beach, weapons panning from side-to-side. Katsuragi got to her feet, brushed some of the dirt off her uniform, wiped her eyes clear of tears and strode up to the nearest marine, trying to maintain composure.

"Sergeant," she greeted, snapping off a salute, "Thank God you're here."

The marine, though clearly disciplined, wasn't beyond taking a quick glance at her revealingly tattered uniform before returning her gesture. "Captain," he said, "I've got orders to locate Major Goss. Is he around, ma'am?"

Katsuragi nodded. "Yeah, he's in the facility. But you won't get much out of him."

"KIA?"

"No," she said quickly, "No, no, no. Just comatose. Can you move him to a Battlecruiser? Somewhere he'll be safe?"

She looked over the sergeant's shoulder to see the Battlecruisers moving toward them, command centers, barracks blocks and more dropships emerging from their cargo holds. A wing of Wraiths, maybe the same as earlier or maybe a different one entirely, eased into a patrol pattern around the island. All in all, it looked like whoever was in charge was setting up a base on the island.

"You'd have to take that up with the General, ma'am," the sergeant said, "Am I to understand that you're in command here?"

"Yes," she answered.

Servos whining, the sergeant turned back to the dropship he'd emerged from and shouted "Hoskins!"

The private named Hoskins popped his head out. "Yeah Sarge?" he shouted back.

"Radio command. Tell them we've established contact with the _Shogoki _survivors," he said, then looked back to Katsuragi, "Can you show me to the Major?"

She nodded. "Follow me."

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Nanius watched quietly from the doorway as Katsuragi explained what they knew of Jim's condition to the UKR sergeant. The man listened intently, looking at Katsuragi in between quick glances at Nanius. His unease radiated like a beacon. Clearly, being within a few feet of anything Protoss had not been in the job description.

"So, can you get him medical support on a Battlecruiser?" Katsuragi asked.

The sergeant shifted in his armor. "I don't see why not," he said, "But that is the General's decision, not mine."

"Then I need to talk to this General," the UED ship captain replied, her annoyance even more pronounced than the sergeant's fear, "When can I see him?"

"Right now. With Major Goss out of action, I'm to take you to the command ship."

Katsuragi nodded. "Then let's get rolling."

A loud thump followed by a crashing of metal echoed down the corridor, and Nanius leaned out of the doorway to see what was going on. Ian was slumped against a wall, his armor dented from a strike to his stomach, while Robinson dodged back and forth to avoid a series of thrashing mechanical legs.

"What is it?" Katsuragi asked.

"Verbatix grows restless," Nanius replied, activating his psi-lance, "I will absolve the situation."

He strode down the hall toward the enraged Immortal, his left hand held up peacefully before him. Robinson got hit in the chest by a glancing blow and was thrown past Nanius, her arms flailing. She hit the floor and skidded to a stop next to her positron cannon, which she quickly grabbed and leveled with Verbatix.

The Immortal spun around and glared at her, ready to charge. Nanius leapt in between the two, his psi lance glowing.

"Stop, both of you!" he shouted, "Why must you quarrel?"

It was Ian who replied. "I tried to get his weapons systems online by prying off part of his back panels," the tech said, "Then he went batshit."

"Verbatix," Nanius said, "Calm yourself, friend."

"You urge calmness, Nanius? How can I be calm? How can I _ever_ be calm? My metal body is failing me, I'm surrounded by those I do not like, I cannot feel the Kahla, and worst of all, my most trusted friend is the one who took it from me!" Verbatix roared.

"You are not alone. I, too, am severed from it," Nanius boomed, "You'd do well to remember that."

Verbatix's response was quick. "And you, with your Terran companions, would do well to remember the fate of your father!"

Silence filled the corridor as the two friends, one of flesh and one of steel, stared each other down. Nanius' blue eyes narrowed, brighter in their slits than the luminous energy blade at his wrist. Verbatix didn't move, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

Finally, Nanius spoke. "You have insulted me, you have insulted my friends, and you have insulted my father," he said, words carefully spaced, "You are nothing to me now. You are no longer a friend and you are no longer a brother to me any more than air is kin to space. Leave."

"Nanius-"

But the young Executor would have none of it, instead turning his back to Verbatix and walking to the injured form of Ian. He had started to help up the tech, whose suit was busted by the strike to his gut, when Verbatix roared.

"You would turn your back on me!?" the Immortal screamed, lunging at his former comrade, "You dishonorable bastard!"

Nanius whirled around, bringing his psi lance up, and impaled Verbatix directly through the base of his main chassis. The blade struck straight and true, piercing what remained of the Protoss within directly in the brain. Verbatix's metal shell went limp and fell to the ground. In pulling his weapon out, Nanius split open a good deal of the armor. Blue coolant spilled out across the stone floor, puddling beneath the fallen cyborg warrior.

"Rest, Verbatix," Nanius said, collapsing his blade, "May I give you in death what I took from you in life: peace."


	97. Chapter 97

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 98: A Glance Inward**

Six years ago, Katsuragi had watched the Raynor's Raiders taskforce receding behind her as the _Shogoki _prepared to go to warp. She remembered the feelings she had experienced during that moment, chiefly among them was nervousness at the realization that she would soon be back on Earth and would never see the comrades she'd made in the Korpulu Sector ever again.

Then there was the excitement of going back to the place she had been born, of the possibilities of seeing old friends. There was the dread of coming face to face with her father. The uncertainty of how the UED would view her prolonged stay. There were thoughts of good luck for the friends she was leaving behind and a lingering sadness for the all-too-present deaths of Kahn, Jax and the other Dogs during the final battle for Tarsonis.

With the long journey home, however, most of the feelings settled into workable states of mind, and with her return to Earth, Katsuragi was able to deal with all of them. It soon became apparent that she had no reason to be excited about meeting old friends, all of whom seemed cardboard and flaky after the bonds shared in war.

The Directorate, as she should have expected, hailed her as a hero and wrote her book about the subject. She did 'freeform' talk shows, all of which were carefully scripted to either gloss over the catastrophic loss of two invasion forces or just ignore their existence all together, and focus on she and Hyuga's daring one ship assault to eradicate the Zerg and Protoss both in one massive blow.

Her father, she quickly found, was not to be dreaded. As a bedridden old man eating from a tube, Shinso Katsuragi was hardly the proud fascist he had once been. Of course, this didn't stop her sister from robbing the family bank account blind, a problem that Katsuragi corrected in a matter of minutes via a strongly worded talk with the Ministry of Economy and a punch in Rebecca's face.

With nothing better to do but wait for the next pointless public appearance and command battlefleets in the pathetic series of skirmishes known as the Centauri Wars, Katsuragi found herself continually drinking hard liquor while cravings for a cigarette got progressively worse. It was while commanding a battle while legally intoxicated—a feat remarkably accomplishable in the Centauri Wars—that she realized the root of her troubles.

She missed Jim.

She'd never been happier than when she heard him shouting for a pickup, when she watched him carefully explain to Jax why eating crayons was bad, saw him frowning at a report as he cursed a blue streak about the Zerg, or witnessed him empty a clip into an offensive alien.

He hadn't come with her because he knew what the United Earth Directorate was, even if she was still too idealistic to realize it. It was because of that idealism that she had left him behind, and it bothered her every day she was away. She'd promised herself that if she somehow ever got the chance to be near him again, she would never leave him.

Not for anything. If Jim Goss charged headlong into a eight-way melee between aggressive armies, she'd get him there. If he was going to invade an enemy ship from the inside, she'd direct the covering fire. If he needed a pickup after that solo-sojourn into the enemy ship came so near failure that it could hardly be called a success, she'd be the one to come in low over the exploding deck to pull him out.

And if he was comatose from some undiagnosed contact with an evil, power hungry woman who took a little too much inspiration from the dark templar, Katsuragi would be the one to stand next to his stretcher as he was wheeled into the sick bay on the UKR flagship _Tarsonis_.

And she did. She stayed right with him until the acting medical practitioner told her to butt the fuck out of his sick bay. After all, he was a doctor, not a couple's counselor.

Katsuragi watched the door slide shut, getting at the last moment a glimpse of Jim as they hooked him up to a battery of heart monitors and brainwave scanners. Sighing, she leaned up against the wall and fished her cigarettes out of her breast pocket. As she lit the smoke, she noted that her uniform was way too torn for its own good, and briefly wondered how the hell it ended up showing that much cleavage.

"Captain Katsuragi," rumbled a baritone southern accent.

General Clegg was a walking cliché, and it was immediately apparent the instant Katsuragi saw him. He was big, loud, and spoke with a southern accent as thick as the cigar smoke that seemed to coagulate around him no matter where he walked.

During the rebellion that had led to the rise of the UKR, Clegg had been Bill Jax's right hand man. Well, next to Jim. Now that the democratic government had been established, Clegg was in charge of the First Combined Squadron, the unit responsible for all military action against the Combine remnant forces following Moria's destruction.

"General," Katsuragi replied, holding out her hand, "Your men are doing fantastic work fortifying the island."

"Thank you, little lady, but truth be told, we're really just running around blind," Clegg replied, shaking with her.

"How do you mean?" she asked.

Clegg shook his head. "Scouts have confirmed Protoss forces on the move, but they're not bothering us. They're just heading for the source of all this atmospheric disturbance," he said, "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"I believe I can explain most of that, General," Katsuragi said, "You wouldn't have a tactics table, now would you?"


	98. Chapter 98

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 99: The Last Briefing Part III**

Clegg actually did not have a tactics table. What he did have, however, was a new addition to the _Tarsonis_' briefing room. Before the attack on Moria, Bill had led the briefing in this same room, the various captains and commanders seated in the circular amphitheater while he elaborated the plans on an expansive whiteboard.

Gone was the whiteboard, in its place was a dome emerging from the floor. When activated, the numerous lenses on the dome came to life, emitting pinpricks of light that coagulated in the air at the center of the room, meshing together to form a singular holographic display.

As the Beacon formed in the air before her, everything the scouts had sent back from the weapon emplacements to the towering beam of pulsating light at its top rendered in glorious detail, Katsuragi had to gawk. It was when the rest of the Dogs entered, however, that her thoughts were finally voiced.

"That's fucking wicked," Ian noted.

Robinson nodded. "Yeah, we had one of those in the planetarium near my neighborhood when I was a kid," she said, "They're pretty nifty."

"Indeed," Nanius agreed, settling his lanky form into one of the benches.

"Uh-" Clegg started, pointing toward Nanius.

Katsuragi held up a hand to stop him. "It's okay," she said, "He's with us."

Clegg shut up, content with watching as every important officer in his squadron filed into the room. They took up seats according to associations, with the navy men sitting with the navy men and the marines milling around with the marines. Katsuragi could even see specific groups, like tankers, sitting together. It was typical, and in some respects, she believed it helped.

"Okay, listen up!" Clegg belted out once the room was filled, "Take your seats and shut it!"

The few soldiers still standing quit at once, planting their asses as fast as if they'd been manhandled into doing it. Katsuragi had to give the General props for running his outfit as tight as he did. Nothing was more annoying then a high ranking officer being his men's best friend.

"This is Captain Katsuragi. She'll be giving us the background on the situation," Clegg continued, "Following that; I'll be leading a discussion on the tactical end of the coming battle."  
He nodded to Katsuragi and stepped aside, letting the younger woman take the stage. As she stepped on, she could see every male in the room ogling her. She swore, even if she had to get a UKR uniform, that this would never happen again.

"Before I even begin," she started, "I want each and every one of you to take whatever preconceived notions you have of the Protoss and throw them right out the airlock."

Confused murmurs swept through the assembled men like ripples through an ocean.

Katsuragi just kept going. "They've changed. Our target is Executor Rasinar, the Protoss who is responsible for the unification of his race. He has perverted the Kahla, the sacred bond between all Protoss, into a sick and twisted hive mind where he is the Supreme Being, and all other Protoss are merely pawns under his control.

"The source of his power is this," she said, gesturing at the holographic Beacon and its surrounding defenses, "The Beacon. It is an ancient structure, built here by a race long gone known as the Xel'Naga. Its power is what is creating the storm that is covering the planet, and if given enough time it will become the weapon with which Rasinar could enslave the entire Sector.

"If he is able to find a way to increase the Beacon's power, he could theoretically create psionic storms unparalleled up to this point. I'm talking the power to wipe out whole systems and sweep this entire fleet aside like a man swatting a fly," she explained, "Which makes it absolutely imperative that we destroy the Beacon as soon as possible, and in doing so destroy Rasinar's chokehold on the Protoss race."

Approval came back to her in the form of nods and scattered applause. She held up a hand, silencing it before it could get a good start.

"But it won't be that easy. They have the numerical advantage, the support of entrenched positions, and the benefit of instant communication between each other. They can coordinate attacks just as fast as the Zerg and with no doubt superior fighting skills, making this no easy task. And to top it off, they've been mutated by Terrazine.

"In order to bring one down, you'll have to punch through his shields and deliver a shot to the brain. If not, he'll be able to regenerate any limb you blow off due to the accelerated functioning of his body," she said, then decided to add, "And don't get too close. In hand-to-hand they can still rip you apart."

At the back of the room, a marine stood up. "Yeah? Well they ain't seen no Terran Marine!"

The crowd burst into spontaneous applause and whoops of laughter, punctuated by fist pumping and general marine corp shouts of testosterone. As Clegg took the stage, shouting for the men to knock it off, Katsuragi sat down in the front row next to Nanius.

The big Protoss warrior leaned over, giving off the impression of whispering in her ear. "If they retain those mannerisms, the coming dawn will either bring with it the largest massacre in your history, or the most glorious victory."

Katsuragi looked at him sideways, his face obscured by her bangs. "I hope for our sake it's that second one."


	99. Chapter 99

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 99: Stratagem**

Rasinar stood back from the perfectly pure crystal and looked upward, following the beam it projected until it vanished in the violent cloud layer above. The Xel'Naga, he knew, had constructed the Beacon to unite the Protoss in a way never before thought possible, even within the Kahla. However, they had never found a Protoss warrior strong enough to become the herald of their plans, to wield the scepter of authority within the theoretical new genesis.

No, it was true that no Protoss alive at the time of the Xel'Naga was strong enough, neither mentally or physically. Rasinar, on the other hand, was a new kind of Protoss. He was bigger, faster, stronger and smarter than any before him. Even the mighty Adun, he felt sure, would have crumbled at his feet. Rasinar was better than the Xel'Naga, and he too would achieve God-hood.

Between the Beacon he stood atop and the chemical that coursed through the veins of his body and of those who followed him, he would blaze through the cosmos, eradicating all who stood in the way of progress. The Protoss that had been isolated on a thousand worlds for generations would join him, be baptized in the Terrazine and inducted into the psychic fold, thus strengthening the whole.

But, that was a long time away. Now, he had to defend his prize, the Beacon with which all was possible. In doing so, he had moved all his forces from the Terrazine lake to the Beacon itself, positioning them in such a way as to brunt any all-out attack against his stronghold.

Rasinar was no moron. His scouting parties and stealthed observers had spotted the Terran fleet almost as soon as it set up a foothold on the island. He would have simply attacked and annihilated them if it were not for their defenses. If nothing else, he had to admit that the Terrans were fast creatures; setting up a fortified position faster than anything he could mount.

As far as forces went, they were evenly matched. But Rasinar had one advantage in this situation: he didn't have to attack.

The Terrans' little island held no strategic relevance to him. They could have it if they so desired. On the other hand, they needed to destroy his Beacon. If they didn't he could enact his master plan, and they had to know that. Rasinar _knew_ they had to know that. After all, Nanius was on their side, feeding them information.

Nanius was stupid, young and idealistic. A human-loving idiot, just like his father in every way. And just like his father, his companionships would be Nanius' end as well.

If they waited, the chance to beat him would be lost to the stars, so they had to act fast. So now Rasinar waited, his defenses placed carefully, his men lying in wait still as statues, each one ready to spring at the merest twitch of his thoughts. Rasinar walked to the edge of the Beacon's top, looking out across his army.

Zealots stood at the very base of the temple, lined up three rows deep on each side. Shoulder to shoulder, the zealots wore moss-green armor plates over their black scales. The Terrazine in their bodies burned clearly in their eyes, and when called into battle would manifest at their gauntlets as psi blades twice as long as the norm. Moving as one, they could easily destroy the best infantry in open field combat, so the clumsy Terran marines wouldn't pose much of a problem.

Photon cannons were arrayed in front of the zealots. The cannons had been hooked directly into the Beacon's power supply, something that Rasinar had barely managed to do without destabilizing the entire energy grid. As a result, the cannons could fire continuous beams, much like that of the Beacon itself. Albeit scaled down, these could still tear through armored vehicles with little trouble.

Above the ground forces was a swarm of aircraft, made up primarily of scouts and topped off by the looming form of a carrier. The carrier, designated the _Dehvalea_, held within it a maximum of four hundred interceptors, each of which were designed to fire a Terrazine-based acidic anti-armor payload. With that kind of firepower, the _Dehvalea_ could dish out more than its fair share of damage, and with the super-dense shields and thick armor it possessed, it could take just as much.

Rasinar's scales bristled, not with the contaminants that flowed through them, but with excitability. The battle would be here soon, and he was glad. Because in all of his travels in all of his four hundred and eighty years of living, Rasinar had yet to find an activity as stimulating, challenging and down right enjoyable as waging a war.


	100. Chapter 100

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Chapter 100: Children of the Grave**

Master Sergeant Marshal Madsen sat in his commander pulpit as the Crucio siege tank rumbled forward. Chatter from the other forty-five tanks to his left and right filled the communications channel, seeping into his ear via the headset strapped to his head. Madsen sat with his upper body in the open, which was about the worst place for a tank commander to be in the middle of combat.

And when they got into combat, Madsen would be the first to duck down inside the rumbling behemoth beneath him. But for right now, as the attack force moved toward its goal, Madsen was content to sit and drink in the sight of the Terran war machine in action.

The Crucios were at the front of the assault, an armored spearhead that would in all probability break the enemy's defenses under a volley of 120mm shock shells. Behind the tanks marched the infantry in five full companies of CMC armored marines, marauders and firebats. When the tanks opened fire, the infantry would flood forward between the armored vehicles to close with the Beacon as fast as possible.

Madsen's force was moving south from where they had landed on the coast early this morning and would arrive on the north side of the Beacon valley in a few minutes. Another force, comprised of hellion fast attack vehicles, was looping around to the east to harass the enemy's flank to draw fire off of the main assault.

The UKR fleet was hanging back, at least three miles to the rear of the ground troops. When the Protoss reacted with their air forces, the fleet would make its move. In the meantime it needed to stay out of the way of the Crucio shells, which would soon be arcing high enough into the air to become a hazard to any flyers in the area.

Madsen knew that in this entire plan, the only thing he could be even close to 100% sure of was that his tanks would get off one volley unopposed. After that the element of surprise would be gone and whatever happened next would be a matter of luck, coordination and speed. Madsen, like every other man in this attack force, knew that his death was entirely possible and that when the smoke settled his corpse could very well be among the fallen.

That realization, above everything else, was why he had his head in the air. The rumble of engines, the clanking of armor and the roar of jets was a suite of sensation that he wouldn't give up for anything. If he died, he died. But until that time, Madsen was most definitely _alive_.

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Katsuragi stood on the bridge of the _Tarsonis_, trying her best to look like something other than a fifth wheel. She had ditched her tattered UED uniform for a light blue UKR jumpsuit from the ship's storeroom. It was exactly like the light blue jumpsuits that every lowly ensign wore in the UKR navy, but at least she was distinguished by the long black coat she draped over her shoulders. The coat was a staple of Directorate officers, and due to its strong leather it hadn't been nearly as damaged as her main uniform.

Hyuga stood next to her, his black uniform barely torn at all and his spectacles undamaged. He held a holo-board and stencil, though there was nothing for him to write on it. Clegg had invited the both of them to the bridge as observers, more out of common courtesy than anything. Katsuragi appreciated the gesture, but something about his bridge rubbed her the wrong way.

She commanded with one other officer on her bridge, and said officer had to be extremely good at his job. Clegg, it seemed, liked to command a bridge filled to the brim with mediocre officers. Of course, this led to the smell of body odor pervading the room, and there was nothing Katsuragi hated more than a bridge smelling like something it shouldn't.

From the conversation between officers, she could gather that all weapons were ready and that the Wraiths were ready to launch. The _Tarsonis_ was a big ship, and as such it was equipped with two Yamato guns, both of which were charged and ready to fire at a moment's notice. Dropships were ready, loaded with the forces that weren't on the ground already, and somewhere she could hear a discussion about security teams being positioned by airlocks to repel boarders.

The fleet's part of the attack plan included two goals. The first was to establish air supremacy over the opposition, which would then make room for the second goal: to provide fire support to the ground forces. How, precisely, those goals would be accomplished was largely tentative. Katsuragi knew that was good, because meticulous planning always fell apart.

She just hoped that Clegg could think on his feet in a ship-to-ship encounter. If not, then they were in for a long haul.

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Ian strapped himself into the dropship seat, idly wondering if the manufacturer had intentionally made the thing uncomfortable. He set his Impaler across his lap, turned it over and slapped in a full magazine. The receiver clicked and the bolt snapped forward, putting the first of three hundred 8mm spikes into the barrel for firing. Ian snapped the rifle up into place at his shoulder and sighted down the barrel at a place on the floor.

Once he was satisfied that the sights were zeroed in correctly, he sat the weapon down butt-first between his booted feet. Nanius strode over and sat down beside him, his slender body seeming to glide down into place with no apparent effort. The alien had remarkable control over himself, and Ian truly pitied whoever came into contact with him.

Nick and Robinson entered next, taking their seats across from Ian and Nanius. The UED heavy weapons specialist still carried her positron cannon attached to her shoulder, though recently she had picked up an Impaler to compliment it.

Nick had a new jumpjet to replace the one that had been destroyed when Verbatix and Nanius turned against the rest of the group, as well as a replacement Scythe pistol. The new jumpjet had fresh red paint on it and when set against the beaten and faded near-brown of the rest of his suit, it stood out like a sore thumb. Nick, though, didn't seem to care.

He didn't seem to care about anything, really, and he had spoken even less than usual as of late. In fact, Ian found himself wondering just how stable the reaper really was anymore. The guy had been acting twitchy all morning, and Ian wasn't all that sure that he had slept the night before. Not that that was out of the ordinary. Most guys had trouble sleeping before something like this.

But Nick had always been the one to have no trouble sleeping. Had the EMP to his head screwed with him more than originally thought?

Ian pushed the thoughts away. He had enough to worry about and besides, Nick's health was Nanius' problem now.

Then the members of the 1st Deep Strike Platoon, 2nd Squad piled into the dropship. The squad was one of the best in the whole Squadron, and Nanius had requested them specifically for the coming operation. The Dogs had a very defined part in the coming battle as they were the ones charged with delivering the coup de grace to Rasinar.

In doing so, they would be dropped into the carnage once the area around the Beacon temple had been successfully converted from defensible formation to grade-A cluster fuck. However, making it all the way to the top of the temple with only four people was verging on the impossible, hence the strike squad. With their help, the Dogs would be able to make it to Rasinar and stop him before it was too late.

But first, the battle had to start.

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As Madsen's tank started up the incline that led to the lip of the valley, he cranked his seat back down below the seat. He had just shut and bolted the hatch when the Beacon became visible out the frontal ob slits, its pulsating green beam thrusting up into the cloud layer to fuel the thunderstorms that plagued the planet's atmosphere.

Madsen reached over and tapped the man next to him on the shoulder. "Fubuki, what's the status of the rest of the column?"

Fubuki scanned his station and looked back at Madsen. "They're setting up, sir," he answered, "Targets should be zeroed in soon."

Madsen nodded and turned to the driver. "Alben, screw us in."

Private Alben muscled the transformation stick right and down. The hydraulics in the tread pods groaned, forcing them out in an X pattern. Heavy duty stabilizer screws emerged from the treads and drilled into the earth, securing the Crucio to the ground. Alben pulled another lever and the turret began morphing, retracting its twin 90mm cannons into the body. The 120mm shock cannon slid forward on its gears and appeared out the front of the turret, angling automatically to a 45 degree angle for maximum distance.

Madsen pulled a periscope out from the ceiling and leaned forward, lining his eyes up with the shielded display. The periscope was linked to the shock cannon's targeting suite, giving him direct control over the aiming process. He panned sideways and brought the reticule down onto his tank's predetermined primary target: a photon cannon at the edge of the defense formation.

Madsen locked it into the tank's computer, then highlighted another cannon that had been labeled as his secondary target. His third, fourth and fifth locks were all freely chosen, a symptom of the command staff's faith in how long his tanks would survive.

"Sir, all tanks reporting locked on and ready," Fubuki sounded.

Madsen took a deep breath and rested his finger on the firing stud.

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Rasinar knew his defenses were infallible. Unfortunately for him, the UKR siege tanks that had been moved up into place on the north rise above the Beacon valley hadn't gotten the memo. When the order was given to commence firing, the tanks complied in earnest. Thanks to the tank's targeting computers and well-trained commanders, the opening volley from the forty-six 120mm shock cannons was intensely accurate.

The shells arced high into the morning air, loping over the battlefield like whistling sirens of death, and came down directly atop their targets. Photon turrets, still tucked down in their metallic bases, detonated with gusto, shrapnel from their golden casings blooming out across the ground near them. Reavers, their hulls thought safe by the pits they were settled in, were hit from above.

Their scarabs detonated from the shock rounds, mixing blue fire with the orange flames. Armored bodies exploded in long shards that impaled construction probes, pinning them to the ground like oversized Impaler rounds. Most of the photon cannons were destroyed in their holes.

Rasinar spun just in time to see the last shell explode against one of his turrets, the blast destroying it in a heartbeat. Infuriated, he psychically screamed at his carrier and assorted scouts to destroy the offending siege tanks. Like a fleet of obedient pets, the swarming flyers began moving toward the north rise, propelled onward on glowing jets of Terrazine plasma.

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Madsen felt the autoloader at his back grind into action, ejecting the spent shell and inserting a new one even as the turret swung around to aim at its next target. Via the periscope, Madsen could clearly see the havoc wrecked on the Protoss defenses. Flames were licking across the valley below them, engulfing the grass in a rapidly growing inferno.

The turret came to a stop, the reloading completed. The computer made a last second check, beeped twice, and gave Madsen the okay. Along with every other commander in the column, Madsen hit the firing stud again.

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Tongues of flame erupted from the north ridge, kicking the second salvo of rounds downrange, the new reports riding the echoes of the first. The secondary targets exploded, their detonations merely pinpricks of death from the point of view of Rasinar.

Fire blossomed into the sky, smoke curling up from the destruction below to meet with the churning storm above. The _Dehvalea_ steamed forward, flanked by scouts, its bulbous prow coming about in line with the tank formation.

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Madsen saw the airlocks on the carrier iris open with a smoothness that only the Protoss could manufacture. Interceptors swarmed out of the curving hull, darting about as they formed up and descended toward his periscope. The cannon swung around, a fresh shell slid home, the computer beeped and Madsen fired.

The third salvo arched up into the air, bypassing the descending interceptors, and detonated against the defenses, destroying anything that the first two volleys had missed. Madsen saw his third target explode through his periscope and knew it was too late. The interceptors opened fire as they dove, slagging his periscope in the first blast.

Terrazine-based acidic plasma burned through the frontal armor two blasts at a time. Alben vanished in a spray of blood as the green washed over him. The blasts moved back, killing Fubuki next on their way toward Madsen. The commander thought briefly about trying to unbuckle his belt and run, but realized it would be futile.

The computer beeped that the fourth target was ready to die, and as the plasma splashed across his legs, Madsen hit the firing stud. The cannon fired, chucking the shell an instant before the ammunition magazine detonated, taking the rest of the tank and Master Sergeant Marshal Madsen with it.

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Rasinar watched as the interceptors strafed the Crucios, searing hot plasma shredding the armor like cloth and melting the crews inside to bloodstained pulp.

Spare shock shells detonated, blowing out the rears of tanks. Some of the crews abandoned their burning vehicles and ran, their legs pumping in desperate strides to flee the descending waves of murderous drones. The action was in vain, however, as the interceptors happily cut them apart in cross fires of burning blue light.

But the nimble killers didn't stop at the tanks. Rasinar watched via the eyes of the _Dehvalea's_ drone commander as the interceptors continued down the back slope of the north ridge, straight toward the massed infantry on the other side.

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Magnifiers on the _Tarsonis' _external cameras brought the plight of the marines on the receiving end of the interceptors' fury into crystal clear reality before Katsuragi's eyes. Stands of tall trees ran right up to the edge of the valley rim, providing some much needed cover to the marines as they weathered the assault.

Green acid-plasma rained down, splashing across the bark and eating away at the wood. Globs landed on the CMC armor of some of the marines, burning thru it and rupturing their bodies. Impalers spat return fire up at the drones, but most of it was in vain. The interceptors dodged most of it without much trouble. Even the occasional hit did little more than throw the unit off balance for a moment.

Katsuragi was about to shout at Clegg to hurry up and bring up the fleet for air support when she noticed he was already on top of it, barking into a headset at the other ship commanders.

"All Battlecruisers, full ahead to the combat zone," he ordered, "Launch single ships when you're in range."

In the area of heavy ships, the First Combined Squadron was outfitted with twelve ships. Seven of those were Behemoth-class vessels, old but effective. Four more were Tiger-class ships, captured from abandoned Kel-Morian shipyards during the cleanup operations after the war. The final ship was the _Tarsonis _herself, a grizzled and heavily customized Behemoth capital ship.

But that carrier was a Gantrithor-class vessel, and twelve ships would barely be enough to beat it under normal circumstances. With it surrounded by a few hundred allied aircraft, however, the fight got immeasurably harder. The single ships Clegg spoke of—mostly wraiths with a few valkyrie missile frigates thrown in—would either make or break the coming fight, with everything depending on how well they could distract the enemy's fighters.

And that fact is what gave Katsuragi the greatest idea she'd ever concocted. Stepping up to Clegg, she cleared her throat. "General, I believe there is something I can do to help you."

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Rasinar didn't see the Battlecruisers so much as he felt them coming, like some kind of psychic calling. Their appearance on the battlefield elected a feeling out of the marines on the ground that was electrifying, raising the men's spirits a hundredfold. The soldiers had been so close to breaking under the interceptors Rasinar could taste it, but with the moral boost of the neo-steel behemoths they would fight on until the end of time if necessary.

Quickly, he diverted all the interceptors and scouts to deal with the UKR main fleet and its accessory fighters. The nimble and seemingly delicate Protoss craft dove toward the Battlecruisers, weapons glowing as they approached. The Terran vessels warmed their laser banks to an angry red, and soon the two forces were trading fire in mid-air.

Of course, the instant the interceptors redirected their efforts, the marines broke free of cover and ran toward the target. The armored men passed through the destroyed tank line, vaulting burning wreckage and the bloodied forms of the men who had died to make the assault possible. Screaming, the marines charged over the lip of the valley and saw what lay in the valley before them.

The defending corrupted Protoss had been moved out onto the northern field, responding to Rasinar's commands like obedient children. As psi blades popped on, filling the air with the crackle of static. The two armies stared at each other for a moment, and Rasinar could feel the marines' fear as if it were tangible.

Then a stray Yamato shot burned through the air and landed in the midst of the zealot ranks, vaporizing at least fifty of them in an instant and abolishing the marines' doubts even faster.

The marines roared, and surged into the valley, bringing with them the barking fire of eight-hundred C14 Impalers. Spikes ripped through shields six at a time and tore through heads from multiple angles. Skulls broke under 8mm steel, and Protoss bodies started piling up on each other, green blood pouring from their destroyed heads.

Rasinar ordered his zealots forward and watched as they moved up, darting headlong into incoming fire. Some dropped, their bodies mangled, but they could recover. The ones that died from headshots were few and far between, not really affected the whole at all. The marines bellowed a whooping war cry into the storm-addled sky, and closed with the zealots in a smash of thundering boots, crackling blades and booming gunfire.

Out in the open halfway between the Beacon temple and the ridge the marines had come from, the battle ended up being one of close ranged hand-to-hand combat, where individual strength came to bear and numbers mattered for nothing, ideal conditions for the perfectly synchronized killing machines that the corrupted Protoss had become.

A marine screamed as he was cut in half, his Impaler falling to the wayside. Another marine spun around and sprayed his buddy's killer with spikes, knocking down his shields and blowing his head apart. The kill was valiant, but it didn't prevent six more zealots from ripping the marine into pieces. Terrazine blades cut through armor and into flesh while the zealots wielding them merely shrugged off the glancing hits that came their way.

Dying screams of marines filled the air, and as Rasinar stood atop his temple, he could see every death in the eyes of every marine his zealots looked at, receiving signals from a thousand minds at once. The violence flowing into him so fast, so visceral; it was incredible. Every spray of blood, every thud of impact, every cut of every blade washed over him like a tide, and so long as his air forces held off the Terran fleet, then he could experience this all the way through till the last human lay dead at his collective feet.

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"Okay boys, change of plans," the dropship pilot said over the intercom, "We're deploying now. The marines on the ground are cut off behind the Protoss air forces and are requesting immediate reinforcements."

"Understood," Nanius replied, then turned to the rest of the men in the compartment, "Warriors, prepare for combat!"

Ian spat on the floor. "Fucking great. Those idiots go to fast and we're the ones who have to go flying through the gauntlet of flying shit to pull their asses out of the fire."

"Those idiots die and we lose this battle," Robinson pointed out from across the bay.

"Yeah, that may be true. But that doesn't mean I have to like saving them," Ian countered.

Robinson opened her mouth like she was about to retort in kind, but was cut off by the dropship's engines flaring to life. The vibrating thrum of ignition started and Ian soon felt a sudden lurch in his gut as the craft was blasted out the bottom of the _Tarsonis_. His armored body pushed against his harness, then was thrown back down as the pilot slammed on it.

Looking out the window across from him, Ian could see the air battle whipping by beside them. Interceptors exploded in flashes of red and scouts dropped toward the earth, their engines belching flame. The dropship rolled to avoid a stream of plasma fire, throwing Ian back in his seat and giving him a view of the Protoss carrier as it loomed above them.

Plasma cannons tucked away in the folds of its hull blasted away at the ships around it, vaporizing some of the first wraiths to join the fight. A Battlecruiser—the _Hazing_, he thought—was drifting past it, delivering a full broadside with its laser banks and missile turrets. The weapons burst against its shields, and as the carrier returned fire, Ian could see a series of explosions ripple across the _Hazing's_ hull.

And then the view was gone as the dropship righted itself. More transports formed up around them, and as they approached the landing zone on the north slope of the valley, Ian could hear all the engines coming together into one superior wail.

"Ten seconds!" the pilot shouted, fighting against the controls to keep them steady.

Nanius stood, his cloak flowing around him as if of its own accord. Ian got up beside him, still shorter by about a head and a half, and checked his Impaler one last time. Nick and Robinson got up, each one careful with their clumsier equipment. Behind them the entire deep strike squad got to their feet, rifles ready for a fight.

The dropship's skids hit the ground with a jolt. A split second later, the ramp dropped to the earth, and a zealot leapt right for Ian.

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"Ma'am, permission to speak freely?" Hyuga asked, fitting his helmet down over his head.

Katsuragi strapped her oxygen mask on and cinched it down. "Go ahead, Hyuga," she replied, checking to make sure the mask was working.

In her rearview mirror, Katsuragi thought Hyuga looked like he was going to be sick. "Well ma'am, if you'll recall, you haven't flown anything like this since you were in the academy. Doing so now is not only risky, but it isn't a correct application of your strategic knowledge."

Katsuragi chuckled, turning on her close-circuit radio. "Is this your cute way of calling me crazy, Hyuga?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am."

She grinned beneath the helmet/mask combo, reached up, and pulled down the wraith's canopy till its seal clicked and the status light blinked green. She toggled the engine safeties off and started the fighter craft up. The engine made a high pitched whine and the wraith lifted up off the deck, its stubby landing gear folding up into its underbelly.

"Weapons check," Katsuragi asked.

"Lasers warmed up, missiles accounted for, targeting system checks out," Hyuga muttered, "Looks like it's all good. But you don't have to do this, ma'am."

Katsuragi ignored him. "Open the door."

Hyuga sighed something about going to puke and sent in the code to open the hanger airlock. The double doors hadn't even parted completely before Katsuragi floored it, zipping out through the widening crack with inches to spare off each wing.

Instantly, a scout whipped past her cockpit, chasing another wraith with its nose cannons. Katsuragi yanked the yoke around and fell into position behind the scout, bringing up her HUD's laser reticule in line with its rear. The sight went from green to red, confirming a lock, and she fired. Red lasers chased the scout across the sky, passing through the unshielded rear end and smashing into the engines.

The scout exploded into a green cloud of Terrazine-augmented plasma fuel, Katsuragi's wraith blowing through the shrapnel and super-heated gas. She emerged from the other side and pulled up, narrowly missing an interceptor. The nimble robot spun and chased her up, spraying acid-plasma after her as she went.

She jerked around the stick and rolled her wraith to the side, the interceptor's shots zipping past her cockpit. G forces pushed her down in her seat, and she had to strain to see the interceptor as it reversed course alongside her. She dove toward the ground, and in doing so attracted more of the little robotic drones. Plasma blasted past her wings as she rolled to evade incoming fire.

"Ten, no, twelve bogeys!" Hyuga shouted from behind her, "We're gonna die!"

Katsuragi gritted her teeth and pulled out of the dive. Her fuselage scrapped against the tops of trees as she leveled out, some of the highest branches slapping against her canopy. The interceptors followed her, dodging in and out of the trees without any trouble thanks to their programming. Plasma burned through the leaves around her wraith, but none of it hit her. Still, if she didn't get backup soon then she'd be a burning hunk of metal crashed into the dirt.

"Captain Katsuragi to any idle units," she said into the radio receiver in her oxygen mask, "I've got a dozen interceptors on my ass. Need assistance, over."

Katsuragi whipped her wraith around a tree, narrowly avoiding a volley of shots. The plasma set the tree alight. The interceptors darted through the flames, their cannons still spitting green death right on her exhaust.

"Katsuragi? As in, Misato Katsuragi of the Dogs of War?" a voice crackled in.

"Yeah," she replied, dodging another trunk of siege tank thickness, "Why?"

The voice laughed. "Hell yeah we can!" it hooted.

Two wraiths came screaming down out of the sun's glare, laser blast pouring forth from their cannons. Some hit the interceptors directly in the engine, engulfing the little bastards in vibrant green explosions. Others only had one wing ripped off and were sent spiraling into the ground, smacking through branches as they went. One even smashed into a tree trunk and brought the whole thing down on top of it.

Katsuragi pulled out of the forest and brought her wraith up into a hover twelve feet above the trees. Her two saviors pulled up in front of her, their wraiths looking more beat up that her old uniform. Rust tinged the edges of their wings and the paint job was non-existent, replaced instead by a mixed patchwork of multicolored junk steel.

"Captain Katsuragi," one of them said, "Never thought we'd see you again."

Katsuragi frowned. "I'm sorry, but you have me at a disadvantage."

"I'm Meatloaf," the same one said, "And he's Maverick."

Realization smacked Katsuragi in the face. Meatloaf and Maverick: the two wraith pilots from the original Dogs of War. "What happened to you two?" she asked, "We all thought you died during the Tarsonis thing."

Through his tinted canopy, she saw Maverick shake his head. "No way. We got cut off in Zerg airspace and laid low for a while. When the Mercer went off, we took a small UED shuttle and got the hell out of there."

"Well, thanks for the save," she said, "I owe you one."

Meatloaf laughed. "Sure thing, Captain. You got a plan for right now?"

Katsuragi craned her neck skyward. The _Hazing _was pulling away from the carrier to port, still spitting lasers at its opponent. The ship's hull was burning in several places, and debris in the form of steel and bodies was raining down out of it. The other eleven Battlecruisers were forming up in an attack line, planning to envelope the carrier and down it with Yamato blasts, a very straight forward plan that even when done right would leave the UKR fleet with at least half its ships burning on the ground.

But not if she acted now.

"Yeah, I've got a plan," she said, bringing her nose around in line with the air battle, "Just follow me."

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Ian knew there was no way in hell he could move quickly enough to block the incoming zealot, not with his slower Terran reflexes. He could damn near feel the blades slicing through him already, nearly hear the hiss of peeling armor and warmth of blood pouring across his skin. All of that was because the zealot _nearly_ got to him.

Nanius, however, got the zealot first. He brought his psi lance up into the target's gut, stabbing through and holding him still while he wrapped his other arm around the zealot's neck. With one mighty pull, he wrenched the zealot's neck around and tore its head off. Green blood pumped into the air, splashing against the roof of the dropship. Nanius pulled his lance out and the body dropped thudded to the deck.

The warrior poet turned to his comrades and held the corrupted head high. "Onward, and fear not the possibility of death!" he bellowed, "For in the eyes of our foes, we _are_ death!"

The marines roared in agreement and surged out of the dropship behind Nanius, boots pounding down the ramp and onto the burning plain outside. Ian went with them, wondering not for the first time just where in hell God came up with the idea for Nanius.

The valley was a mess. The assaulting marines had managed to push up into the smoldering remains of the Protoss defenses, and that was where the Dogs' dropship had set down along with all the other reinforcing dropships. Looking around, Ian could see that the battle had gone south for the marines, with most of the corpses wearing UKR blue.

Marines crouched behind destroyed photon turrets, standing to take potshots at enemy zealots before ducking back down. Some stood their ground in open combat, duking it out at close range with the more numerous Protoss and dying in the process. The entire situation was like something straight from hell, with the taller, blackened zealots looming out of the flames as they dismembered the stocky marines with graceful strikes.

Nanius let out a psionic war cry and pushed into the surging tide of enemies. His psi lance carved into the infected, decapitating and dismembering as it drank his foes' blood, ever thirsty for more. He blocked counterattacks with the plasma shield emitting from his left gauntlet, staving off attackers while he brought around his lance to finish them off.

Nick pushed alongside him, Scythe pistols blowing out brains two at a time. Bullets poured out of his twin handguns, interspaced every so often with an empty magazine, as the bodies started piling up in front of him. One of the corrupted Protoss got too close, bringing his blades up to carve Nick's face in half. The Reaper ducked the swinging green blades, shoved his right Scythe into the zealot's chin and fired, blowing brain into the air.

Ian screamed just as loud as any of the Marines around him, firing into the horde of scaled flesh in concentrated bursts of fire. He pushed forward in front of all the others, his Impaler churning brains at point blank range, and had almost made it to a destroyed reaver when three zealots tackled him. Ian hit the ground, his rifle going sideways, and looked up to see his attackers raise their blades to gut him as one.

A red beam of energy flashed across his vision, liquefying all three of the zealots' upper bodies in one blast. Ian had just begun to clear his eyes when Robinson ran over to him, her positron cannon still smoking from saving his ass, and hauled him to his feet.

"Thanks," he managed, still partially blinded.

"Shut up," she shot back, thrusting his Impaler into his grip, "Keep fighting, techie."

"Bitch," Ian retorted.

He moved to the destroyed reaver, which aside from being gutted by a siege tank shell still provided ample cover, and ducked down beside it. Most importantly, it gave Ian something to put his back too, thus keeping the enemy off his ass and letting him deal with the other three directions they could come from.

Flames lapped at his leg armor like hungry animals, heating the steel to skin-searing temperatures. Ian ignored the searing pain in his legs and reloaded, slapping a fresh magazine in like a machine. No sooner had he snapped the bolt forward than a zealot came barreling out of the flames right for him, one psi blade poised to strike down into his heart.

Ian squeezed the trigger, letting spikes loose into the zealot's chest. The alien's shields strobed and failed, letting the rest of Ian's shots through. Impacts shook the brainwashed warrior and sent him stumbling backward into a bank of crackling flame, the killing spike jutting proudly out of his forehead amid a fountain of green.

The fire was closing in on all sides, growing in strength with every minute. Flame banks stretched into the air, and with them came a wave of smoke so thick that Ian's vision was clouded. Only the fins of the grounded dropships could be seen above the din, sticking up as grim landmarks in the din. Ian looked down for a split second to check his ammo counter.

When he looked up again, a corrupted zealot was nearly upon him. The zealot swung wide, his crackling psi blade coming in level with Ian's neck for a decapitating blow, and had fortune not been on Ian's side that day. Salvation came, as it happened, straight from the skies in the form of six hundred pounds of pissed off.

Nick appeared, like an angel of death, from the smoke filled air, his jumpjets blazing as he landed between Ian and the zealot. The reaper blocked the swipe forearm to forearm, steel smacking against scale. He brought his left hand around and whipped the zealot in the temple with the hilt of his Scythe pistol. The zealot stumbled sideways, where Ian blew its face apart with a quarter clip from his rifle.

Six more of the enemy leapt toward the reaver, their black skin and green eyes making them look quite demonic in the fiery atmosphere. Nick primed and tossed a D18 at one, the charge latching onto its chest armor. As the following explosion engulfed two of the six attackers, Ian opened fire on the one nearest him.

Spikes broke through its shields and impaled its brain, dropping it to the ground like so many pounds of bleeding meat. He pivoted his aim and cut another down, each shot meeting its mark with pinpoint accuracy.

Nick executed another, his Scythe injecting a solitary round into its brain thanks to the earlier D18's removal of its shields. He turned to the last zealot and along with Ian, tore it to pieces in a crossfire of explosive bullets and high impact spikes.

Ian's Impaler clacked dry again, and he had just begun to reload when a marine stumbled out of the flames and dropped to the ground, his visor splattered with gore from a strike to the head. The zealot that followed him still had blood dripping from its gauntlet as it looked to Nick and Ian. Nick drew down on it with one of his Scythes, while Ian pulled out his flak pistol.

Both men fired twice, blasting the zealot back into the flames from which it had come. As it fell, one of Nick's rounds hit it in the face, blowing its skull apart.

The reaper lowered his pistol and looked over at Ian. "This doesn't make us friends," he clarified.

"Good," Ian replied, holstering his own pistol. He had just begun to reload his rifle again when something exploded high above the battlefield.

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Katsuragi was on an approach vector toward the Protoss carrier, flanked by Meatloaf and Maverick on each side. The air around her was cluttered with darting spacecraft and polluted with exploding ordinance. The UKR Battlecruisers' laser banks were fending off the diving waves of interceptors that strafed their hulls, detonating the automated bugs in green flashes.

The _Hazing, _though on fire, was moving around to bring its Yamato cannon in line with the carrier. Scouts and wraiths were exchanging fire all around the damaged Battlecruiser, the vanquished spiraling into the _Hazing_'s hull to end in more explosions.

The radio was filled with calls for support and confirmed hits as the wraith pilots throughout the melee systematically destroyed scouts. Thankfully, the interceptors were focusing on the Battlecruisers so the single ships could deal with their alien counterparts unopposed.

Katsuragi and her two wingmen screamed into the center of the mass dogfight, laser cannons blowing clear a path. All three of them raked an incoming scout with laser fire, overloading its shields and punching into the armor. Flames erupted from the scout as it sped head on at Katsuragi. At the last second, she inverted her wraith and skirted above the scout, the tops of their fuselages mere inches apart.

Looking 'up' through her canopy, Katsuragi could see the Protoss pilot struggling to put out a fire that had made its way into his cockpit. As they passed, she never once let up on the trigger, and coming off her first roll had to dodge another rapidly dropping scout, this time diving under it. When she leveled out again, both her opponents had met their ends on the _Hazing_'s hull.

The Battlecruiser's Yamato gun began charging as it finished lining up the Protoss carrier. Every laser turret on the ship spun around in line with the carrier and let loose, red beams slashing out through the dogfight between the two ships. The lasers hit the carrier's shields, the energy splashing across the barrier in large ripples.

A young officer's face appeared in a window in Katsuragi's HUD. "This is Lieutenant Yuri Hall of the _Hazing_ to all UKR vessels," he said, "Our captain is dead, and the ship isn't going to hold out much longer. But before we go down, we're going to take the carrier's shields out to give y'all a shot."

"Damn fine of you, lieutenant," Clegg replied, "We'll make it count."

Hall wiped a trickle of blood out of his eye and saluted. "Thank you sir."

The _Hazing_'s Yamato gun reached the climax of its charging and with one great heave, let fly. The collected ball of red energy closed the short distance between its launching point and the carrier's shields in no time at all. The shot connected with the energy field about the carrier and washed across it, enveloping the entire Protoss ship in a blanket of red heat.

As the Yamato shot's energy splash dispersed after a moment, it took with it the plasma shield that had made the carrier so invulnerable.

"Shields down!" sounded Hall.

Almost as if responding to his voice, the carrier turned toward the _Hazing_. Folds of armor shifted within its prow, peeling back smoothly over one another to reveal a surging green spike hidden deep inside the ship. The spike moved forward on unseen tracks to lock into place at the center of the three-pronged bow.

The spike brightened hot enough to fuzz out Katsuragi's imagers for a split second, then fired. A green lance of energy slashed out at the _Hazing_, spearing straight through its engine compartment. The beam pierced the _Hazing_'s reactor. The reactor detonated, sending nuclear fire billowing out in all directions, vaporizing neo-steel deck plates as it progressed.

Katsuragi felt her stomach drop. "Shit! Void ray!" she shouted, "Clegg, get your Battlecruisers out of here!"

Clegg seemed to agree. "All ships, abort attack! Get away from that fucking carrier!"

As the Battlecruisers responded to the directive, coming about on their clumsy engines, Katsuragi screamed forward in her wraith. "All wraiths, concentrate your fire on the ships defending the carrier," she ordered, "Once we've cleared most of them, we'll bring it down."

Hyuga leaned forward. "How're we supposed to do that, ma'am."

"Easy," she replied, "We'll just take out the void ray."

Hyuga groaned and flopped back in his seat, muttering something about dying for sure.

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Ian had no sooner cleared his eyes of the sunspot that used to be the _Hazing_ than the debris started coming in. Chunks of neo-steel plating smashed into the plain, digging up whole swaths of mud and grass in the process.

A laser turret crushed a zealot next to Ian, spraying him with a splash of green blood. About five yards away, he saw Nick jumpjet Robinson out of the way before an unidentifiable hunk of something turned her into a pancake. Near them, Nanius leapt out of the path of another piece of the ship, landing gracefully on his feet before stabbing another enemy through the face.

Smaller bits of steel panged off Ian's armor as he moved into cover behind a slab of outer hull armor. Looking around, he noted that the debris had somehow made the whole battlefield even more disturbing. With the twisted and deformed remains of the Battlecruiser now rising out of the fire like some corrupt idols, it seemed to Ian that things couldn't get much more chaotic.

Protoss and marines clashed in the junkyard of destroyed equipment, the blood pooling beneath their feet as spikes, blades and fists collided. The flaming rain poured around the combatants, molten steel mixing with the blood as the battle raged on.

Ian pushed into the flames, his armor protecting him from the temperature. He stepped over a dead marine whose body had been sheared in half by a falling wraith wing and stopped. Bending down, he scooped up the dead man's Impaler in his left hand before continuing.

A zealot jumped out of the flames in front of him and Ian depressed both his Impalers' triggers. Two streams of lead ripped into the zealot's torso, blasting him backwards. As the zealot fell, Ian kept on firing, blowing chunks of flesh and armor into the air, each one trailed by its own fountain of luminescent green gore.

The zealot's body hit the ground with a thud, landing amid the flames. Ian walked over to it, holding his two smoking rifles, and looked down. The wounds to its chest were already healing up thanks to the Terrazine pervading its body, and soon it would be back on its feet.

But Ian didn't give it that chance.

His booted foot crushed the zealot's brain, squirting shit all over the grass behind it.

"I trust you are enjoying yourself," a voice boomed.

Ian whipped around, finding himself face to face with Nanius. The warrior poet's armor was slick with gore, his cloak was dripping with green blood, and his face was streaked with claw marks where Ian assumed dying foes had attempted to force him off. Somehow, Ian thought that when framed by the fire raging around him, Nanius looked perfectly at home.

The thought chilled him to the bone.

"What is it?" Ian asked.

"The destructive rain about us has rendered our radio communications inert, so it is impossible to call for backup. When last I was in contact with anyone outside this maelstrom, I received the impression that air support is next to impossible and that the hellions have been bogged down by more enemy forces," Nanius said.

Ian frowned. "So we're fucked."

"No, we are not," Nanius corrected, "But our plans have changed. While the regular marines can be trusted to fight here, we possess a higher goal."

"Rasinar."

Nanius nodded. "Precisely. Assist me in gathering Nick, Robinson and what remains of the strike squad. We have a war to finish."

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Hyuga was a helmsman. He had been trained to be a helmsman. He had signed up to be a helmsman at eighteen years old. In fact, he had been assigned helmsman positions on every ship he had ever served on throughout his entire career. So, in Hyuga's mind, it was safe to say that he was a true helmsman.

Not a wraith navigator. Actually, he was pretty sure that it specified in his file that he should never be put in the position of a wraith's navigator. Hell, most wraiths didn't even have navigators! Typically, pilots used the backseat to store food, weapons and nudie magazines. And he got motion sickness, too! The bad kind!

Yet, here he was, in the backseat of a wraith. Why?

"Hyuga!" Katsuragi shouted, "Comprehensive scan of the target!"

Hyuga snapped into action and started reading off the statistics as they appeared in front of him. "Shield power at zero percent. Armor integrity stable. Escort ships number at six hundred and forty two. Direct defense systems are nonexistent," he paused, "Well, unless you count the void ray."

"Hang on!"

Hyuga's stomach flipped as Katsuragi dropped altitude, dodging a flurry of plasma fire in the process. Meatloaf and Maverick followed as she leveled out, screaming in at the carrier from below. Hyuga looked up and saw the remaining wraiths engaging the interceptors. Missiles passed plasma in mid-air, impacting on each other in some spots, while most others destroyed whatever they came into contact with.

In relation to the single ships, the carrier hardly seemed to be moving as it lined up for a shot at the retreating Battlecruisers. The void ray was humming with energy, lines of green pulsing up and down its length as it warmed for another shot in half the time it would take a Yamato cannon.

"Meatloaf, Maverick, follow me in," Katsuragi ordered, "Keep them off my ass for as long as you can and we'll finish this."

"Roger that," Meatloaf responded.

Just then, the void ray lit up the sky again, blinding Hyuga just as it had done the first time. When the flash subsided, the projected beam had stretched across the distance between the carrier and the retreating Battlecruisers. It struck the _Kodiak_, a Tiger-class vessel, in the engines and bored a hole from stern to prow.

No sooner had the _Kodiak _begun to fall toward the earth than Katsuragi pulled up, bringing their wraith up toward the glowing void ray, dragging Hyuga along with her.

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Nanius yanked his psi lance out of an enemy's neck, at the same time bringing up his knee into its head. The zealot's body hit the ground, where Nanius stepped on its chest and thrust his lance into the air, the purifying blue cutting through the hellish gloom as a beacon.

"Marines, follow me!" he bellowed, and without further ado, leapt into the fray once more.

Ian formed up behind Nanius, Nick and Robinson as they pushed forward, wading through the southern zealots as a concentrated spearhead with the remaining marines from the strike squad bringing up the rear. Zealots that survived the initial psi lance, Scythe pistols and positron cannon were mopped up by the strike squad's Impalers.

Ian forced his way through, engaging the enemy at point blank range, his duel Impalers bucking chaotically in his ironclad grip. Up ahead, he could see the entrance to the Beacon temple yawning open like some powerful sea creature, the long corridor beyond shrouded in mist that glowed a subtle green shade.

Of course, the actual problem was the team of zealot bouncers standing before the opening. They were a little taller than most of their kind, and Ian could tell that they were stronger. Their armor was thicker and more elaborate, covering every patch of scales on their bodies in slabs of blackened armor. Terrazine blades jutted out from their gauntlets, wider and longer than any Ian had seen in the previous battle, and Ian guessed that their shields bore the same beefy design principals.

"God, when're these guys going to quit?" Robinson asked, shouldering her anti-tank weapon.

"When the last one lies dead at our feet," Nanius replied, and without another word, sprang forward.

Ian had only known Nanius for a few months, but in that time he had come to realize that the tall warrior poet only outmatched his vocal ferocity with his combat skills. Ian had seen him lunge into certain death and emerge victorious, and as he watched Nanius charge forth now, he realized that the bouncer zealots, no matter how tough, didn't stand a chance.

He lashed out at the first zealot, slicing off both its legs in a single swing before stabbing it in the brain. Moving forward, he stabbed the second one in the chest and heaved it over his shoulder into Nick for finishing. The third jumped toward him, both blades outstretched for a flying tackle, but ended up missing completely from a last second dodge by Nanius.

A fourth attacked from his right, and was decapitated without pause, his headless body splaying across the ground like a rag doll. Number five and number six attacked in unison, one from each side. Nanius sliced the fifth's stomach open, brought his lance around to cut the sixth in half, before coming back to deliver a brain shot to the fifth.

By this time, the third had recovered from his failed tackle and came at Nanius again, swiping up from the waist to split the warrior poet in half. Nanius blocked the swing with his shield and stabbed out with his lance, the needle-sharp point spearing thru the zealot's eyepiece and into its brain. He pulled it back out, letting the zealot collapse at his feet.

The seventh made the mistake of grabbing his cloak, a mistake that Nanius punished by denying the zealot the privilege of a right arm. A swift heel to the temple wrenched the one-armed zealot's head out of place, sending it to the ground atop one of its fallen brothers in spasms.

Nanius flicked green blood off of his blade and entered the temple. He had just turned to beckon the rest of the team to join him when something within the temple's walls began to groan. The entrance rumbled as a colossal stone slab appeared from the ground and moved up, closing off the only way into the hallway.

The last glimpse Ian had of Nanius before the slab cut him off was of the warrior's cold blue eyes narrowing in hatred. Then the stone came to a stop at the top of the entrance, cutting Ian, Nick, Robinson and the rest of the squad off from their comrade.

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Nanius didn't move for a long moment as he waited for the anger that had welled up within him to pass. The door closing behind him had irked him beyond what the human term 'pissed off' could describe. It was such a painfully obvious course of action that in hindsight Nanius felt stupid for not picking up on it. No doubt Rasinar was directly behind it, isolating him and forcing him to confront the evil executor himself.

Nanius sighed and turned around, looking down the darkened hallway. Pillars stretched up on either side of the path, their ancient stone surfaces engraved with glyphs that Nanius couldn't decipher in the dim lighting. The ceiling stretched up into a misty layer where green energy hummed in what was probably runoff from the Beacon's main psionic projection beam.

Collapsing his shield and lance, Nanius started out down the grand hall, cloak dragging behind him as he strode toward the lift at the opposite end. If Rasinar wanted a one-on-one fight, then he would have it.

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The D18 charge thunked onto the offending stone slab, beeped twice, and exploded. When the smoke subsided, the door was still standing defiantly intact.

"I'm out of ideas," Nick muttered, standing aside.

Ian looked behind them where the battle in the burning plain was still raging. It showed no signs of letting up, and if the large amount of pained screams and rattling Impaler fire was any indication, then it wasn't likely to any time soon. Clearly, the Dogs' expertise could be better utilized somewhere besides trying to force their way through this door.

He was about to say something when Robinson interrupted.

"Immortals!"

Ian whipped his head around and saw that Robinson spoke the truth. Two Immortals were barreling toward the group on their compliment of mechanical legs. The cybernetic soldiers' armor was the same color of infected black that the rest of Rasinar's men were, and as they came the cannons on their shoulders lobbed green globules of Terrazine.

Throwing himself to one side, Ian narrowly avoided one of the blobs. It passed by his ear and splashed across a marine behind him. The green leeching energy sizzled through the soldier's torso, eating into his flesh. Screaming in agony, the marine clawed at his rapidly deteriorating chest. The acid ate away his fingers, and as he fell to the ground, Ian could see his internal organs liquefying.

"They shoot _acid_? This isn't fucking fair!" Ian whined.

Nick dodged another shot, landing next to Ian. "Robinson, hit them!" he shouted.

Robinson stood up, planting her feet surely in the dissolving muck below her, and squared off with the two Immortals. As the barrel of her cannon began to heat up for firing, Ian called for suppressive fire. The rest of the team took the order to heart, and in the interest of not being melted into smoking goo, engaged the Immortals.

A ripping tide of spikes panged off the Immortals' armor, scrapping and denting it in glancing hits. Some penetrated just deep enough to send some of the coolant liquid spurting out in concentrated jets, almost like water from a garden hose. Ian had just enough time to note that the coolant was green as well before Robinson fired.

Backwash from the discharge sent dirt up behind her in a halo, framing her armored body as the angry red column tore downrange. The positron beam's frequency was just low enough to bypass the cybernetic walker's context-sensitive shields, and therefore was able to hit it full force. Sparks flew and coolant vaporized as the Immortal exploded, its upper body and power plant rupturing from the sudden overload, not to mention the searing heat.

It had just keeled over when the other Immortal opened fire with both of its glob cannons. The pulsating orbs hurtled toward Robinson, rotating and fluctuating in mid-air. They hit her simultaneously, one in the chest and one in the knees, the second spreading its surface area across both limbs. The acidic properties got to work instantly, melting through her UED battle armor like it wasn't there.

The acid ate into her skin, melting through in no time. She fell to her hands and knees, gasping for air with lungs that were quickly corroding within her ribcage, disappearing into smoke that curled out of her punctured armor in fine wisps.

The rest of the group reverted their aim back to the Immortal, blasting it with volleys of spikes and bushels of rocket-propelled grenades. It bucked and twisted under the impacts, two of its legs crippling from the grenades. The lumbering beast fell forward, its 'face' hitting the ground in a rumble of thunder. It thrashed about, trying to right itself with only half the legs it should have possessed. Almost casually, Nick primed and tossed a D18 charge onto the squirming mech. The charge latched to one of its cannons, beeped, and went off, taking the rest of the machine with it.

Ian reloaded and looked over to where Robinson was laying. Her legs had been eaten away, and her ribcage was nearly hollowed out, the acid finally beginning on the heart. She was beyond gasping, as her lungs were gone.

"Let's leave her," Nick said.

Ian whirled on him. "Hey, fuck you, man!"

Nick fixed him with the gaze from behind his red-tinted facemask lenses, a sight that caused Ian to shudder a little. "Do you see that?" the Reaper asked, pointing toward the battle that still raged between the Protoss and the UKR air forces.

"Yeah!"

"Without our help, Rasinar will beat Nanius, and then he'll kill our space forces. Without them, I don't get to leave this fucking planet," Nick said, "So if leaving her gets us up that temple faster, then we leave her."

"She'll die, you cold-hearted bastard!" Ian countered.

"Wrong," Nick said. As Ian watched, the Reaper calmly shot Robinson once in the head. "She's already dead."

Ian shook his head. "You're insane."

"Absolutely batshit," Nick agreed, "Now start climbing. It's a long way to the top."

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Katsuragi's wraith skirted the carrier's armor inverted, with only inches to spare between the hard steel and her canopy. Meatloaf and Maverick followed her, their laser cannons sending angry red flashes out to clear interceptors from the space behind her. Green blasts and explosions dotted the air around her wraith, whipping past in flashing images; a slideshow of destruction.

"Almost there!" she shouted, "Just a few more seconds, guys!"

Suddenly, the armor above her vanished and she found herself looking up at the void ray. Up close, it was a spectacular piece of weaponry. Fine coils ran across its surface, each one teeming with the glowing energy contained within. The whole thing thrummed with unimaginable power as it charged for another withering blast.

"Jesus Christ," Hyuga muttered, "Power levels are off the charts."

"Great, where the hell do I shoot it?" Katsuragi cut him off. After all, she couldn't drift forever.

"Hang on," the repurposed helmsman said, "I'm updating your HUD."

Meatloaf's voice crackled in over the radio. "Multiple bogeys!"

"Where?" Maverick shot back.

"Everywhere!"

Meatloaf's wraith shot past Katsuragi, engines blaring white hot. He banked high over the void ray with a cluster of interceptors on his tail, spitting plasma after him. Maverick followed suit, lasers blasting the drones off his friend's tail in broad strokes.

Without any wingmen, Katsuragi gunned her engines toward the void ray. "Hyuga, if you've got something-"

As if on cue, her display shifted. A 3D display of the void ray popped into existence off to one side in blue shading, with red highlights on specific energy conduits.

"The red areas are where the energy levels are the highest. Fortunately, the Terrazine used to augment the overall power output has degraded the plating in those areas," Hyuga explained.

"So, I shoot the red spots," Katsuragi stated.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, "A Gemini missile in one or two spots should do fine."

"Hyuga?" Katsuragi asked.

Hyuga looked up from his readout in the backseat. "Ma'am?"

"If we live through this, I'm going to kiss you."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Katsuragi pushed her engines to full, bringing them fully across the red line representing the safe operational limit. She switched to her missiles, of which only one was left, and lined up the crosshair with a part on the void ray that corresponded with a big juicy red blob on Hyuga's overlay. She depressed the trigger and let the missile fly, sending it out on a careening contrail of flame.

Katsuragi yanked back on the control yoke, pulling the wraith out of the attack run. G forces pushed her into the seat, and as she rolled the craft to rocket out of the carrier's tri-prow, she looked up just in time to see the missile hit its target.

The Gemini missile vanished in a pinprick of light, rupturing the main power conduit to the entire void ray, which set off a much, much bigger flash of light.

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The void ray didn't so much explode as it did rip apart. The multiple energy lines running throughout the spike that made up the weapon couldn't handle the extra output put on them after the detonation of the main conduit, and subsequently, the entire thing ripped apart like a city street during an earthquake.

The Terrazine-addled firing mechanism was already set to let loose another shot, but without the ray intact, it couldn't fire. The pent up energy still had to go somewhere, however, as it couldn't just be jettisoned like some defective probe. In the end, that energy went back into the carrier's interconnected systems, frying the entire ship.

The various crystals throughout the ship that were used as processors and storage devices for the myriad systems overloaded and detonated from the excess energy, setting off small explosions throughout the ship. The power pylons located in the engine compartment, in one last attempt to save themselves as per their programming, vented the energy through the power lines that were sown into the very armor of the ship.

All at once.

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Rasinar stood at the top of the Beacon temple and watched as the _Dehvalea _destroyed itself. The armor heated along certain power lines until it burst, breaking apart in an explosion that roiled across the surface of Aiur. A flash of green larger than a nuclear explosion tore through the sky, smashing into the ground and churning up the earth for miles around.

Interceptors, scouts and human craft alike were thrown like toys through the air on random courses away from the epicenter of the blast. The shockwave tore across the battlefield at the base of the Beacon, tossing anything that wasn't heavy enough across the field. The flames in the plain were blown out by the hurricane force winds, and Rasinar had to hold onto a pillar to keep from falling himself.

When the shockwave passed, the _Dehvalea_ had vanished, taking with it Rasniar's last hope for victory.

A sound like a flag flapping in the wind pulled his mind off of his near-certain defeat, and Rasinar slowly turned around to see a figure standing atop the lift that sat next to the beam emitter crystal, his cloak billowing in the dark breeze. Two intensely blue eyes gazed out of the shadow at Rasinar, two eyes that to anyone who'd ever seen them before were unmistakable.

"Rasinar," the silhouette growled.

"Nanius," the corrupt Executor replied in kind.

Calmly, Rasinar started down the slope toward the bottom of the bowl-like depression that lay at the top of the Beacon. Nanius hadn't brought out his weapon, so Rasinar wouldn't either. Clearly, the younger Protoss felt as if he could talk Rasinar out of this, something that he was more than wrong about.

"I see you have rejected both of the gifts I offer," Rasinar said.

Nanius didn't respond, his eyes tracking Rasinar as the older executor made his way down the slope.

"Or maybe you didn't," Rasinar continued, "Maybe, your tendrils were severed against your wishes."

"You are aware that they were," Nanius snapped, "You were controlling me then."

Rasinar scoffed as he finally reached the bottom of the slope. "Controlling? No, Nanius. I was _guiding_ you, just as I guide all of my children."

"There are Protoss suffering your tyranny that are four hundred years your senior," Nanius said, "They are not your children."

"Age matters not in the face of the enlightened," Rasinar countered.

The younger warrior did not hesitate. "I should think 'misled' a better word than enlightened."

"By who?"

Nanius' eyes narrowed. "While you were connected with me, I was connected likewise with you," he explained, "The woman who calls herself Asuka Soryu is responsible for your ignorance of the truth. Your 'new genesis' for the Protoss race is no more than slavery. It is an absolute rejection of the Kahla and all that our race stands for, merely a way for her to remove our species from her path.

"The Terrazine will kill you, Rasinar," he continued, "No Protoss can sustain that punishment for long without suffering ill effects. She spoke only lies, yet you accepted them as truths without fail. Our entire race cannot be allowed to suffer due to your nearsightedness, and if you will not repent for destroying Kahla, then I will be forced to kill you."

Rasinar laughed. "Destroyed? The Kahla? No, no, no, Nanius. I did not destroy the Kahla, I merely expanded it! I took what was a flawed and inconsistent ideal and forged it into a perfect union of minds, where all Protoss are constantly as one!"

"With you more 'as one' than the others, it would seem. Tell me, what good is a perfect union when personal being is sacrificed in the process?" Nanius observed.

"You fail to understand. You are so much like your father," a long beam of green shot forth from Rasinar's wrist, extending to a little over a foot longer than Nanius' own lance, "And I suppose I will deal with you as I did him on that counsel floor so long ago."

Rasinar pushed off the stone on his powerful legs, vaulting into the air high above Nanius. The smaller Protoss dodged right, rolling to his feet just as Rasinar plunged his blade down into the floor. Nanius charged, activating his lance and bringing it in for a downward strike. Rasinar pulled his blade free of the stones and brought it up against Nanius' own.

The two weapons banged off each other in a spray of blue/green sparks, each of the combatants reeling from the hit. Rasinar recovered first, sweeping his blade toward Nanius' midsection. The much younger warrior jumped over the swing and stabbed out on his own. Rasinar sidestepped the stab, grabbing Nanius by the wrist. He stood and used his superior physical strength to hurl Nanius across the top of the temple.

Nanius felt his back smash into a column of ancient stone that dented under his bodyweight, his cloak falling around him. He quickly scrambled to his feet, noting that Rasinar was coming at him like a raging bull, and readied his wrist shield. The titanic executor smashed into him at full force, breaking the shield from the shear weight of his impact and crushing Nanius up against the pillar.

He pulled back and swung down at Nanius. His blade missed the nimble young warrior by a scant inch, slicing into the stones instead as Nanius clambered to his feet.

Nanius swung at Rasinar's leg, slicing open the top layer of muscle as the corrupt executor pulled back. Now on the offensive, Nanius backed Rasinar across the area, swinging time and time again, each thrust blocked by Rasinar's own blade. Nanius pulled his blade back and swung down with the intent of splitting the executor in half vertically.

Rasinar, surprisingly, stepped under the strike and grabbed Nanius' blade arm again, holding it up while he struck with his own blade. Nanius grabbed Rasinar's wrist, holding the hissing green lance at bay while at the same time trying to force his own lance down into his opponent's head.

The two Protoss struggled against each other, locked into the same stance. Anger welled up within Rasinar, anger that was reflected by the psionic storm above them. Lightning crashed down around them in slashing strikes, lighting the arena in intermittent splashes of vibrant green light. Their eyes locked, muscles tensing tighter and tighter as though each were going to go off like bombs.

Nanius felt Rasinar gaining on him, the green blade slowly inching closer to his exposed side, and simply reacted. He jammed his foot up into the executor's waist and pushed off, letting go of Rasinar's blade arm in the process.

The two combatants bounced off each other like the like ends of two magnets, Nanius landing at the base of the focusing crystal while Rasinar ended up at the edge of the bottom of the slope that ran around the edge of the area. They both got to their feet, blades still inactive following the tumble, and looked at each other.

The only sound was the thunder as each stood in silence for a long moment. Finally, Rasinar spoke.

"You are a good fighter," he conceded.

Nanius made a slight nod. "Likewise."

Silence returned for at least a minute, both warriors looking the other over in anticipation of the second round.

"I wonder, do you even know that your brother pledges his allegiance to the Mistress of Shadows?" Rasinar asked.

Nanius didn't respond right away. "That is impossible," he said at last, "Ruktoch has been dead six years."

"I do not speak of Ruktoch," Rasinar said, "But of Ranyt."

Nanius' mind reeled into shock, and in that split second, in that mere nanosecond of realization that his Terran brother was still alive, was when Rasinar struck.

The corrupt executor activated his blade and barreled toward Nanius at a speed only an enraged Protoss could achieve, his weapon raised high for a strike at Nanius' heart. He was right on top of Nanius when the younger Protoss dropped onto his back, dodging the strike entirely.

Rasinar looked down as his momentum carried him inexorably forward and saw Nanius wink as he forced his boot up into Rasinar's gut, giving him the extra push needed to fling headfirst into the pulsating Beacon. The last thought that went through Executor Rasinar's warped, corrupted and Terrazine-addled mind was one of pure realization: he had been duped.

The beam absorbed Rasinar, vaporizing him in an instant. Having destroyed the only thing that it was transmitting thoughts to, the Beacon simply deactivated. The Beacon's beam fluctuated, snapped as it whipped about, and broke off all together, shattering into the air like a breaking sheet of glass and scattering trillions of pinpoints of light across the surrounding plains.

"There, all done," Nanius thought to himself.

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Ian made it up the last step and slid down the depression to where Nanius was getting to his feet. After having climbed all the way up the outer slope, Ian had mixed feelings about Rasinar not being there. On one hand, he didn't have to fight through his exhaustion, but on the other hand, he just hiked all the way up here for nothing.

"Where's Rasinar?" he asked.

"Gone," Nanius said simply.

Ian figured he could live with that for now. He looked skyward as the clouds peeled back away from the Beacon, leaving blue skies in their wake. Lightning turned to rays of sun, and thunder turned to chirping birds as dawn, true _dawn_,broke again on Aiur's horizon. On the plain below, the formerly brainwashed and murderous Protoss stopped fighting and keeled over, their armored bodies sinking into the soft grass that had seemed to blossom below them.

Ian slung his Impaler over his shoulder and stepped over to Nanius, who had made his way up the side of the depression to look out over the surrounding valley. The _Tarsonis _had returned with the rest of the surviving Battlecruisers, their hulls shining in the fresh sunlight.

"You alright?" Ian asked the Protoss next to him.

Nanius didn't reply, instead gazing across the battlefield in statuesque silence.


	101. Chapter 101

**StarCraft: Brain Storm**

**Epilogue**

Six miles away, Katsuragi crawled out of her wraith where it had crashed into the side of a hill. Having been flung across all that distance by the carrier's explosion, she was surprised that she was alive, let alone conscious.

"Hyuga!" she shouted, shaking the helmsman awake, "Get up!"

"Have we landed ma'am?" he asked.

"Yeah, now get out!" she said, pulling him out of the backseat and standing him on the grass.

She pulled her helmet off and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hard kiss. Hyuga responded instantly, filling her mouth with a flood of regurgitated breakfast that he'd been holding in throughout the entire air battle.

"Gah!" she shouted, pulling back, "What the fuck!?"

"Uh," Hyuga started, "Sorry?"

Katsuragi slammed her fist into his face, knocking him into back into sleep.

To be honest, Hyuga thought the wet Aiur grass felt great on his face.

**Closing Thoughts: Yup, he threw up in her mouth. And nope, that's not how I'm ending the whole thing.**

**There _will_ be a third Brain story. You can be sure of that. It will have Brain in the title, but other than that, I'm not sure what will be going on. Nick'll probably get nuttier, as you guys seem to like that, and Jim will wake up at some point. But I'd better get some reviews on this thing, because it was fucking hard to write! I mean it, you lazy shits.**

**Until next time,**

**Toasterman.**


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